Beautiful Escape
by Accidental-Ducky
Summary: "She's going to kill us all." The certainty, the knowing, in his daughter's eyes makes Nico feel sick, like the world's worst hangover accompanied by the after effects of a panic attack. Her voice is flat, not quite her own, and he knows that she's right.
1. Priscilla

**2015**

"It was really scary," Taylor says, staring down at her shoes as she swings her feet back and forth through the air. "Like one of the ghost stories my older cousin used to read to me." She shakes her head, reaching out to grab her daddy's hand for reassurance. "There were lots of dead things in that house."

"How about you start at the beginning," Sidney suggests with a bright smile. Her daddy referred to it as his Hollywood Smile because it's faker than most movies. "Why'd you move in with your aunt and uncle?"

"My mommy went to Heaven to be with Nana."

"Breast cancer," Nicolás states sadly, brushing one of his large hands over Taylor's hair. "It was pretty common on Monica's side of the family; her mother had died of it when Mon was a teenager."

Taylor looks up at her daddy, taking in the familiar despondency in his dark eyes as he stares into the camera a few feet away from them. He's always sad nowadays, only giving her small smiles when he catches her watching him. _Daddy's got a Hollywood Smile, too_.

"I didn't think Tay should be at the funeral since she was only six at the time and we were going to move in with Shelby and Matt anyway," he continues. "So, I sent her ahead of me to settle in."

"I missed Daddy a lot." She squeezes his hand again, managing a smile of her own when he squeezes back. "We would FaceTime every night and he would read to me until I fell asleep."

"She wouldn't go to sleep if we didn't, you see. Now she barely sleeps at all no matter what I do." And the dark circles under her gray eyes are proof of that, though they aren't as dark as the ones under her daddy's eyes. "We finished the first _Lord of the Rings_ book in two days, didn't we, Princess?"

"Yeah, Sam's my favorite." He's small and brave and can do anything, that's who Taylor wants to be like. "We were reading _Princess Bride_ last year, part of a chapter every night." She turns her gaze back to her sandals, looking whiter than ever against the light brown of her skin. Her papa on her daddy's side was Cuban, but she got her blonde hair and gray eyes from her mommy. "How much longer, Mister Sidney?"

"Just a couple hours," he says, flashing that thousand-watt smile again. "What was your first thought when you saw the farmhouse?"

"It looked like some kind of castle, like a Princess was gonna throw a big party at any minute."

 **2014**

"It's totally huge," Taylor says as she makes her way up the curving stairs of her new home, her aunt's phone pressed against her ear," even bigger than the old house, Daddy."

"It is," Nicolás asks, sounding equally excited to the six year old. "Are you having fun there, Princess?"

"Yeah, me and Uncle Matt went on a walk yesterday to see how far the prop… The prop…"

"Property?"

"Yeah, that's the one. We went to see how much of it there was and there's tons of it! Aunt Shel said I wasn't allowed in the woods by myself 'cause there could be snakes and crazy hillbillies."

"Are there really crazy hillbillies there or is Shelby overreacting again?"

"Uncle matt said one of 'em spit on the porch when they didn't win the house."

"That's nice." Taylor laughs at her daddy's tone, finally making it to the second-floor landing. Directly across from the stairs is a plain wall with a rounded window set in the direct center, a wooden pane cutting it in half to look like partially folded wings. "Have you seen your room yet?"

"Yeah, we're gonna paint it yellow like Winnie the Pooh!"

"How awesome is that?"

"I get to help put blue tape on everything so the paint don't get on stuff it's not supposed to!" Taylor's excited about that since her mommy didn't like her messing with tape too much after she'd gotten a big wad of it in her hair when she was a baby. She runs across the landing to the window, peering out the right side and down at the yard below; it's mostly high grass and weeds, all tangled together to create the perfect hiding place for snakes. "I think you'll like it here, Daddy."

"I'll like anywhere as long as I have my Princess with me. Hey, baby, the company's here so I have to hang up, but I'll FaceTime you later tonight. I love you."

"Love you too, Daddy!" She waits for the click before she lowers the phone from her ear, her smile transforming into a frown as she turns away from the window. She really misses her parents, but she knows she'll be able to see her daddy in a couple of days at the most.

Sighing, Taylor studies the landing, spotting to doors to her right and a matching pair to her left, each side containing a kid-sized door. Curious as ever, she moves across to one of the little doors and pulls it open. It's just big enough for two little kids if they sit on their knees, though dust covers everything and it makes her sneeze. Taylor scrunches up her nose and closes the door before standing again, turning on her heel and running for the narrow staircase tucked into a corner on the left side of the room.

" _I'm a little teapot, short and stout_ ," she sings to herself as she ascends the stairs," _here is my handle and here is my spout_." The stairs creak under her weight, but she doesn't even stop to wonder if the stairs will hold her up. " _When I get all steamed up, here me shout: Tip me over and pour me out_." The room the stairs lead to is smaller than the landing she left behind, completely emptied out with only a tiny window far above her head.

Taylor giggles, jumping after the dust that swirls in a beam of sunlight. Her little hands make the dust seem to dance and she dances along with it, wishing her mommy was here to clap out a beat only she could hear. Her mommy was good at dancing even if no one else in their family is and they all used to push the furniture to the edges of the living room and dance along to whatever song came on the radio.

An echoing giggle has Taylor sliding to a stop, letting out an _oof_ of pain when her bottom hits the floor. A little girl is standing across the room, dressed in weird clothes and a dirty white bonnet; her cheeks are same ashy gray as Monica's had been the last time Taylor saw her, eyes like black pits where the sunlight hits them.

"You're dead," Taylor says matter-of-factly," and you made me fall." The little girl stares down at Taylor, her head tilted to the side like she's looking at something she liked. "What's your name?"

"Priscilla," the girl states, clasping her hands in front of her. She has a funny accent, like some of the characters from Pirates of the Caribbean. Maybe Irish? "Who are you?"

"Not a'posed to tell strangers." Priscilla nods along in agreement, gliding across the dusty floor and sitting across from Taylor with her legs folded beneath her. "How come you're still here if you're dead?"

"The bad lady won't let me leave." There's a real sadness in Priscilla's eyes as she glances down at her dirty hands, the same kind that darkens her daddy's eyes. "She's not gonna let you leave either." Taylor opens her mouth to ask what she means, but footsteps and her uncle calling for her interrupts.

"I'm up here, Uncle Matt!" The man appears a second later, a crease forming between his brows as he looks around.

"What are you doing all the way up here, Princess," Matt asks.

"Dancing." He shrugs, taking her hand in his and pulling her to her feet. She loves her uncle, especially when he'd scoop her up in his arms and run around the house with her, making airplane noises as he went. He doesn't do that today though, just leading her towards the stairs again.

When Taylor looks over her shoulder, Priscilla is gone and the dust still covers the space where she had been sitting.


	2. An Asshole of Epic Proportions

**2015**

"We heard a lot of noises on the first night," Taylor tells the crew behind the camera. "We heard them the entire time we lived there, but the first night was the worst. Even during the daytime, the dead man in the attic was pacing right above my room. He wasn't very nice."

"What'd he look like," Sidney asks, notebook in hand. Taylor wrinkles her nose as she pretends at trying to remember. Of course she remembers what the guy looks like, she still sees him in her dreams sometimes.

"Like one of those stuffy guys in that Pride and Prejudice movie my mommy liked. Sounded kinda like Mister Darcy too, except…" Taylor frowns and meets the man's stare head-on, curiosity burning in her eyes. "He wore a wig that looked like a messed-up ice cream cone." A surprised laugh has her looking up at her daddy, able to make out a shadow of what he used to look like when he was actually happy. "What?"

"Was it Mott, Princess," he questions with that faint smile that she never sees anymore. Taylor gives a curt nod of her head, happy to see her father's smile again. After an entire year, she's just glad she's seeing him out of his pajamas and out of court. "He was the original owner of the house I think, some fancy guy from England with money that would make the Royal family look broke."

"Whoever he is, he's grumpy and has bad hair." Nicolás muffles another laugh and hugs his daughter closer to him, smiling down at her fondly. "I told him he needed to leave us alone, that it wasn't his house no more, but he kept yelling for us to get out." _And reading poetry_ , she remembers. _He's like a chocolate truffle, hard on the outside and gooey on the inside_.

"Yeah, Mott was an asshole of epic proportions."

 **2014**

Taylor is the first one inside the house the next morning, her little backpack in her arms as she runs into the kitchen. It's bigger than the one she left behind and there are a lot of cabinets for her to hide in until Aunt Shel fills them with pans and bowls bigger than Taylor's head.

"Can we paint today," she asks when her uncle comes inside.

"Only if you go help Shelby with your stuffed animals, Tay." Matt sets his box of dishes down on the counter with a sigh, tapping the top once. Taylor knows what's in the box because her uncle taught her the words yesterday, going slow until she could read _plates and bowls_ for herself.

"Aye-aye, Cap'n!" She gives him a salute before running back outside.

"Hey, no running inside, Taylor!" She slows down until she's just out of sight, looking over her shoulder to make sure her uncle can't see her before continuing her sprint back outside to the moving van they'd drove in from town. Shelby is busy organizing boxes in the U-Haul with the heaviest in the back and the lightest in the front.

"Uncle Matt said to come help." She clambers up into the van, barely able to make it since she doesn't have a step-stool.

"How about you take your box of stuffed animals up to your room," Aunt Shel suggests with a smile. She's real pretty, the exact match of Taylor's mommy except for the nose, Shelby's is pert and cute while Mommy's had been a little too small for her face. Taylor beams up at her aunt, taking the kid-sized box from her and jumping down onto the porch before skipping inside.

"I'm helping, Uncle Matt!"

"Good job, Tay," he calls from the kitchen. A loud crash sounds a second later, followed by Matt cursing and Taylor giggling. She starts up the stairs with the box carefully balanced in her arms, her tongue peeking out from between her lips as she focuses on not toppling backwards. The box is small, but it's full and heavy, and her legs are just short enough to make going up the stairs awkward.

Once on the second-floor landing she moves to the big door on her right, letting the box drop to the floor so she can turn the doorknob. Her hand barely touches the cold brass when she hears creaking overhead. Taylor tilts her head back, staring up at the ceiling as the sound grows louder and heavier. It's like when her daddy would pace in his bedroom all night, the steps louder the sleepier he got. He did it a lot when Mommy was sick, trying to stay awake in case she needed his help.

She moves away from her bedroom door and towards the stairs that lead into the attic, muscle memory sending her to check on her parents before she stutter-stops and remembers where she is. This isn't California and her daddy isn't pacing upstairs, the attic should be empty right now.

"Hello," she calls, a hand on the railing. The pacing doesn't stop or even slow down, Taylor making her slow way up until she can peek into the room. It's empty, like she knows it should be, sunlight flooding the room and making all the shadows flee into the corners. She's just about to turn and go back downstairs when she gets the feeling, the one that makes her toes tingle and the hairs on her neck stand on end. "I know you're there."

"Leave," a voice hisses, distorted and accented. She's once more thinking of the pirates movie, this accent more like the Navy guy with the white wig and the sad green eyes. "Get out of my house!" Taylor frowns, resting her hands on her hips like she's seen her mommy do when Daddy does something really dumb.

"Hate to burst your bubble, Mister, but this isn't your house anymore."

"My house!"

"Knock it off!" She stamps her foot, glaring at the dark corner directly across from her. She can't see much beyond an outline, but she can see that he's tall and has funny hair. _A wig_ , she thinks with a nod, _like Pirates_. "This is our house now and you need to behave." The man hisses again, but he disappears a moment later, the feeling going with him. Taylor allows herself to relax, taking one last look around the room to make sure it was empty before moving back down the stairs.

"There you are," Aunt Shel smiles. "What were you doing up there?"

"Showing someone who's in charge." She snorts, bumping Taylor's door open and disappearing inside with two boxes. Taylor follows her with her own box, depositing it on her bed. Uncle Matt had come out before the others had woke up so he could set up their beds without worrying about Taylor getting in the way.

"What do you mean?" Taylor pauses and looks at her aunt, remembering what her mommy had told her a few days ago. _They don't understand, they don't see the dead things like I do_. Mommy couldn't see them either, but she knew Taylor wasn't lying.

"I was playin'." Shelby gives a little shrug and starts putting clothes on hangers and hanging them up in the closet.

Taylor opens her own box and starts removing the stuffed animals, lying them on her bed in three piles; bunnies would go together, teddy bears in another pile, and fish in another. It doesn't take her long to have her animals sorted out, tossing the box off to the side before arranging them on the little bookcase set up against the wall near the door. She doesn't have very many books since she can't read yet, so the available shelves are always filled with her animals.

"That's looking really good, Tay."

"Thanks." She doesn't move away from the shelves until everything is organized the way it had been in her old house. There's more creaking overhead and the two share a look, Shelby gesturing for Taylor to come over to her. She doesn't hesitate, crossing the room so that she can wrap her arms around Shelby's waist.

"You know what? You stay here and finishing unboxing your clothes and I'll go check out those noises." It's the same noises Taylor had heard earlier and she knows the dead man is up there, pacing around in the dark places. Taylor tightens her hold on her aunt, unsure if the dead man will hurt her or not since Shelby doesn't know how to talk to him.

"Stay with me, please."

"Honey, I'm sure it's only a squirrel or something. Just stay here for me." Taylor tries to hang onto her, but her aunt is stronger and able to pry Taylor's arms from around her waist. "I'll be right back, I promise." Taylor watches with a frown as Shelby leaves the room, able to make out her light footsteps and the creaking of steps even with the louder footsteps overhead.

She waits in tense silence as both sets of footsteps completely stop, breath caught in her throat. She can feel the fear building in the pit of her stomach, curling like the smoke from the cigars her daddy liked to smoke with his friends. She feels like she's going to be sick, her palms growing sweaty as she grasps the doorframe of her closet, eyes on the door.

 _What if something's happened and Aunt Shel can't scream? What if the dead man is bad and wants to hurt everyone here?_ Slowly, she shuffles across the room to the bedroom door, peeking her head around just in time for Shelby to try to walk through, both of them jumping back with twin cries of fear.

"Taylor," Shelby gasps with a hand over her chest. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Did you see something up there," Taylor demands, looking beyond her aunt at the steps.

"No, I guess it was just the house settling. You know, these old houses make funky noises and it'll take us a while to get used to them."

"Yeah, I'm sure you're right."

Actions 


	3. Where Thy Dark Eye Glances

**2015**

"The sounds started on our first night there," Taylor informs them, focusing on the teddy bear she held," it sounded like a piggy had come to stand right under my bedroom window and started to squeal. I only tried to find out what it was one time." She takes a deep, shuddering breath as she remembers that night. It had been cloudy and cold, so she was forced to wear her Mickey Mouse socks to bed, but they just made her slip when she tried to get away. "There was a dead man down there and he was using a gigantic fork to mess up the trashcans.

"A pitchfork," Nicolás clarifies at Sydney's confused look. "The…. The ghost was tearing up the trashcans outside and just howling at the top of his lungs. I'm not sure if it was one of those fuckin' hillbillies or if it was something else." He pauses when he realizes what he just said, then looks down at his daughter. "Don't repeat that bad word, Princess." Taylor nods obediently, used to him saying swear words from time to time.

"It was a dead man, he looked kinda like the bad woman." Taylor doesn't like remembering the bad woman, it makes her feel scared each time just like she was back then. Absently, she grasps her left wrist loosely and drops her gaze to the hardwood floor. "His eyes were all black in any sort of light and he was mean."

"He caused us a lot of grief during our time in North Carolina."

 **2014**

After a long afternoon spent painting and setting up the house, Taylor can barely keep her eyes open as she stares down at her aunt's phone. Her eyes are drifting closed for the third time in less than a minute when the phone starts to chime, signaling that her daddy is ready to FaceTime her that evening. It's part of their nightly routine at seven sharp, both in their PJ's and cuddled up in bed.

"Hey, Princess," Daddy grins. "Did you have fun today?"

"It took forever," Taylor complains," and we still ain't done with everything."

"I'm sorry, honey." She shrugs one little shoulder, snuggling under her blankets and taking the phone with her. "Are you ready for me to read you your bedtime chapter?" Taylor nods, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. She's really tired and she knows she still has specs of yellow paint stuck in her hair from where Aunt Shel had rushed to clean her up.

"Read, Daddy," she mumbles around another big yawn.

"Four of them met in the great council room of the castle," Nicolás reads softly, well-aware of the fact that his daughter won't make it past the first page. "Prince Humperdinck, his confidant, Count Rugen, his father, aging King Lotharon, and Queen Bella, his evil stepmother. Queen Bella was shaped like a gumdrop—"

He's brought up short when the phone topples to the ground, and he grins when he hears the faint whisper of breath that meant Taylor is already sound asleep. With that grin still in place, he marks their spot in the book and sets it aside on his bedside table. The house is far too quiet without Taylor in it and he finds himself wishing he can just hold her in his arms again.

He'd made arrangements to have his wife buried the next morning, but there's still the problem of selling their house and having the last few boxes sent out to North Carolina, where Matt will pick them up. On top of all that, he has to hand all of his open cases over to his associates so that he can really focus on setting up a new branch of the law firm in a new state.

He _really_ isn't looking forward to the paperwork.

Nicolás leans back against the headboard, massaging his temples and squeezing his eyes shut to keep his stress migraine in check. He's just so exhausted, but sleep continues to evade him, his dreams quickly shaping into the nightmare of the night Monica passed away.

It was close to eleven, the shades were drawn to keep out any unnecessary light from outside, and his wife had been lying in her hospital bed; it was a simple thing they'd moved into the attic when Monica's cancer began to get bad. They didn't want Taylor to hear the vomiting or the crying, so the move to the uppermost level of their house seemed obvious to him.

Monica had been fine earlier that day, lucid, and she'd taken Taylor in her arms and read her a chapter of _The Princess Bride_ before kissing her on the head and sending her downstairs to be tucked in by the maid that had been hired the month before. After that, it was just the two of them, Nicolás pacing back and forth in front of the bed to keep himself awake in case she needed anything and Monica passing the time by reading a book of poetry.

"…And all my days are trances," Monica read aloud, voice soft and like music to Nicolás' ears," and all my nightly dreams are where thy dark eye glances, and where thy footstep gleams—in what ethereal dances, by what eternal streams." He'd closed his eyes while she read, letting the flowing cadence of her words to wash over him as he paced. He would've listened to her speak forever if it were possible, the sounds instantly relaxing him even when he didn't think it was possible.

"That's beautiful, Mon," he murmurs. There was an instant of silent peace where nothing stirred in the house, and then there was the thump of her book hitting the floor, the ringing alarm of her heart monitor, and the steady, monotone hum that made his entire world splinter into tiny pieces like a mirror that had been thrown against the wall.

Nicolás had dropped to his knees hard enough to hear a crack, the dull pain spreading through his legs not even worth comparing to the way his chest ached. He'd beat at the floor until his knuckles were bruised and bloody, ground his teeth to keep the screams at bay, cried and cried until he thought he would drown in his tears. And all the while, the ache in his chest turned to stabbing pain and then a burning like someone had set fire to his heart, and it wasn't until he felt a tiny hand on his cheek that he realized he'd stopped breathing when Monica had.

He'd sucked in a huge breath of air and blindly pulled his little girl down to the floor with him so he could hold her in his arms, so he could know that she wasn't gone, too. Because if Taylor was gone, then he didn't have a reason to breathe again. He clung to her for the better part of three hours, rocking her back in forth like he had when she was first born, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair and just soaking up her warmth.

And now here he is, widowed and too stressed to handle his own baby while he plans the funeral of the love of his life. He's depressed, his therapist said so even if Nicolás hadn't asked the man's opinion, and he still has to remind himself to breathe every now and again, but his baby girl is going to be okay. That's what he keeps reminding himself, it's what keeps him going through the motions of owning a law firm and dealing with unruly couples that would rather fight over priceless vases than their own children. _Taylor's still alive_ , he thinks with a breath of relief, _Taylor's going to be okay_.

If only Nicolás knew what was waiting for him in North Carolina.

* * *

Taylor isn't sure what had caused her to wake up at first, slowly sitting up in her bed and squinting at her surroundings. It takes her a moment to remember that they are staying in the new house, the fear beginning to dissipate as she lays back down in her bed.

As she reaches for her teddy bear, a strange howling starts up outside her bedroom window and she sits straight up in bed again. Everything goes silent for an instant—no creaking bed springs, no wind beating at the loose shutters—and then the howling starts again, rising on the wind and squeezing through all the cracks of the house. It's strained and high, like the pig she'd seen on a school field trip that had just been slapped by its owner.

Taylor scrambles out of bed and over to the window, grasping the sill and peering out into the darkness. She can barely make anything out, but then the moon is uncovered from the dark clouds and illuminates the metal trashcan. At first, she just figures a pig from some kind of farm got loose and is wandering around, but then she's able to make out a person with a big fork, the screeching seeming to come from the man and the fork as it tears into the side of the trashcan.

The person is tall and skinny like a scarecrow, their face hidden by a dark beard that had grown all tangled with leaves, their skin was as white as her daddy's teeth. He glances up at the house, the moonlight bleaching most of the color from his tattered clothing. That isn't the scary part, the scary part is that his eyes turn into black pits when he tilts his head back and lets out another screech. Taylor jerks back, her socks slick against the floorboards and sending her tumbling to the ground.

"Uncle Matt," she yells, pushing herself backwards. She keeps picturing the scary man climbing through her window and stabbing her with his fork over and over again. "Uncle Matt!" She presses her back against the far wall, knees drawn up under her chin as she waits in fear, entire body trembling.

 _What if the scary man already got Uncle Matt? What if I'm next and he's gonna hurt me bad?_

Her bedroom door bursts open and she lets out a surprised scream, wanting to move further back and unable to do so. The person standing in her room is tall and wide, a vague shadow until he steps into the moonlight and reveals himself as her uncle.

"Taylor," he asks breathlessly, pausing a few feet away," are you okay?" She leaps up and flings herself into his arms, holding to him with all she has because her uncle means safety and good things. "Oh, baby girl, it's okay. I've got you, honey."

"He's out there," she sobs, burying her face against his bared chest. "He's outside!"

"Who is?"

"The man! It's the man and he's stabbing our trashcan!" Matt picks her up and quickly moves across to his own bedroom, depositing her on his bed with Shelby. "Don't leave me! Please, Uncle Mattie, please!"

"Just stay with Shelby, okay? I'm gonna go scare the bad man away from here and then I'll be right back." Shelby pulls Taylor into a comforting hug, the six year old snuggling closer to her as Matt starts for the door. He's gone a few minutes, Shelby and Taylor holding onto each other like their lives depend on it, each of them wanting Matt to get back right that instant.

Sudden and loud clanging outside has both of them jumping, Taylor landing in her aunt's lap with her face hidden by a curtain of blonde hair, though she can't tell if it was her hair or Shelby's at the moment.

"Matt," Aunt Shel hisses, her hands shaking as they smooth down the back of Taylor's rumpled nightgown. "Matt, where are you?" They don't get an answer and Taylor feels like she might get sick at any second.

"No one's there." The unexpected and slightly too loud answer has Shelby letting out a screech and Taylor diving behind her, using Shelby as a human shield until she realizes Matt is the one who'd spoken. "Sorry, guys," he apologizes with a sheepish smile, sitting on the edge of the bed. "There was no one out there, but I think Tay should stay with us tonight."

"Yeah," Taylor agrees, clutching at her aunt's covers," I'm with Uncle Matt."

They readjust on the bed until Taylor is snuggled between them, Matt snoring loudly in her ear and keeping her awake. She looks to her aunt, but Shelby's fallen asleep too, leaving Taylor to deal on her own. Frowning, she wriggles all the way to the end of the bed and slides off, taking the top cover with her. She shuffles to her uncle's side of the bed, pulling his second pillow out from under his head before finding a nice corner and curling up in it.

 _He keeps snoring like that and everyone will think we own a firetruck._

 **The passage Nicolás reads to Taylor is from William Goldman's The Princess Bride, page 81; the partial poem Monica reads is To One in Paradise by Edgar Allan Poe.**


	4. Hailstorm

Taylor skips through the weeds in the front yard, her princess dress flaring out whenever she spins. " _I'm a little teapot, short and stout; here is my handle and here is my spout_ ," she sings into her little plastic microphone. " _When I get all steamed up, hear me shout: Tip me over and pour me out_."

Shelby grins at her, using a power-washer to clean the front porch of the dirt and leaves that have collected on it over the years; it's more like a wooden stage than a porch, wide and fairly close to the ground. "You're doing great, Tay," she praises, almost having to shout over the noise of the washer. 

" _I am a very special pot, it is true. Here is an example of what I can do—I can turn my handle into a spout. Tip me over and pour me out!_ "

"I'm off to town," Matt says as he comes outside, easily jumping over the stream of water. "Anyone want to come with me?"

"I do!"

"I don't," Shelby says, scrunching up her nose and turning the power-washer off. "I still have to finish painting and I want to get some yoga done." Matt gives her a quick peck on the lips, Taylor making a face and turning so she doesn't have to see it. Grown-ups kissing each other is nasty to her, she doesn't get why they can't just hug instead. Hugs are great, they make her feel all warm and cuddled.

"Uncle Matt," Taylor whines," let's get this road on the show!"

"Alright, Princess," he laughs," I'm comin'." She still hasn't turned around and a surprised squeal leaves her when he scoops her up in his arms unexpectedly. "What do you think? Should we stop at the Dollar Tree and find you a new doll?" She gives him the best serious look a little girl can manage, crossing her arms over her thin chest.

"Uncle Mattie, I have enough dolls."

"Is that right? Does that mean you're too old for cool toys then?" Her gray eyes go wide at the thought of no more toys, shaking her head rapidly back and forth.

"No, no! I need toys, I just don't need no dollies!" Matt laughs again, planting a loud kiss on her forehead. "Do you think the Dollar Tree here has any Playdough?" Matt frowns, sending a quick look at Aunt Shel before looking back down at his niece.

"Sorry, they stopped selling it because too many little girls were letting it melt and then getting it all in their hair." Taylor feels her tummy lurch, tears stinging her eyes as she realizes what must have happened. She'd done exactly that two weeks ago when they were all still in California, gotten the bright purple Playdough all in her hair 'cause she wanted streaks like her cousin.

"Did Santa tell on me," she asks in a hurt voice, bottom lip wobbling. Her daddy had told her that Santa was always watching to make sure she belonged on the nice list, but what if he had snitched on her the one time that she made her daddy want to pull his hair out? "Am I on the naughty list now, Mattie?"

"No, honey, of course not." He looks as panicked as she does, turning so they can both see Shelby. "Baby, tell her Santa didn't sell her out. Tell her before she starts bawling." Aunt Shel comes over and brushes some of Taylor's hair behind her ear, her touch gentle like Mommy's had been.

"I promise that it's not your fault," Shelby says seriously, making sure to look Taylor right in the eye. "Some other girl's daddy probably called the Dollar Tree and told them about what happened to his daughter and it just so happened that she had the same problem you did. I'll bet Santa knows you were just playing around and he kept you on the nice list since you're such an awesome kid." Taylor gives a sigh of relief at that, her tummy no longer feeling like it's all tied up into knots. "Your only job today is to make sure your darling uncle doesn't forget anything on his list. Think you can manage that?"

"Yep," she confirms, nodding confidently as her nerves start to fade away.

"That's good. Now, you two better get on the road before this weather gets bad." All three of them look up at the overcast sky, the fat, gray clouds almost hiding the sun from view. Taylor likes these kinds of days because it gives her the excuse to curl up with her favorite blanket and watch Aristocats with her teddy bear.

Uncle Matt hefts her up in his arms better and starts for the truck, letting her crawl in on his side and slide to the middle so that he can get in.

"Can I see the list?"

"Sure thing, kiddo," Matt says, pulling the folded slip of paper out of his pants pocket. It's crinkled from being shoved in there beside his wallet and the writing is tiny, but Taylor can still make out some of the words. She definitely recognizes the word _wallpaper_ since her mommy had bought new wallpaper for the kitchen three months ago, before she got really bad. They'd picked a peach color with little tea cups sketched on it in black, the design perfectly fitting that café theme Mommy had decided on when they first moved in.

"What do you need wallpaper for?"

"I was thinking of turning that attic room into a space for all your toys."

"Can we get a princess wallpaper?"

"If they got it, then we'll hunt it down for you." She beams up at him as he fastens her seatbelt and then his own. "Can you read anything else on that list? I know there's another word you and I've been practicing." She turns her gaze back to the paper, scanning it until she finds what he'd meant. It's eleven letters long and weird-looking, but she's able to read it aloud after a second or two of whispering it to herself.

"Screwdriver?"

"That's right. And what's the one right below that?"

That practice continues all the way into town, Taylor able to make out three new words by the time they park in front of a store. She quickly scrambles out after her uncle, taking his hand obediently as they head inside. The store isn't very big and there are lots of tools hanging on the wall and set up on the shelves, Taylor able to spot the screwdrivers just beside the door.

"What's this place called?"

"It's a hardware shop, they sell all the tools we'll need to fix up our house." Taylor makes a noise of understanding, remembering the times she'd gone with her mommy to one of these places in California. Her mommy was really good at fixing things and she used to joke that the only thing Daddy could fix was his hair. "Hey, why don't you go get me one of those pencils over there?" She looks to where he's pointing further down the aisle, then gives a nod and runs off.

They're in a little box on a low shelf, sitting right next to little packages of round pieces of metal with a big hole in their middles. She picks one up, studying it curiously for a moment. "W-washer," she reads to herself," washers." Her nose crinkles as she looks it over, shaking her head. "What the heck do you wash with this thing?"

"Taylor, come on."

"Coming!" She sets the washer back in its box and grabs one of the wide pencils before hurrying back to her uncle and handing it over. "What's next?"

"Screws." They go to the aisle with a big sign hanging over it, the number 6 written on it in white chalk. It doesn't take her uncle long to find what he's looking for, dropping the box of screws into his basket before moving on. Taylor is growing bored of the hardware shop as they continue to go from aisle to aisle, wondering why this place didn't have any toys or candy. "You okay?"

"I'm bored. Can we go to the Dollar Tree now?"

"Just let me grab the wallpaper first." She nods with a frown, following him around and dragging her feet. She just wants to go pick out her toy and go back home so she can play, but her uncle is taking forever. "Taylor Elizabeth Valiente," Matt scolds, turning to frown at her," if you don't stop the sulking, then I won't even go past the Dollar Tree on our way home. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." The wallpaper they decide on is pale purple with silver tiaras, the only girly wallpaper that was on sale besides the ugly green kind that reminded Taylor of mashed-up peas. After that, they're able to go to the counter and pay for it all, the woman working there making goo-goo eyes at Matt. Taylor doesn't like her.

"And who are you," the brunette woman asks, leaning slightly over the counter to get a good view of Taylor. "Is she your daughter?" Her gaze moves back to Matt, but she doesn't move anything else, making her boobs stick out like deflating balloons.

"Her name is Taylor," Matt says with a polite smile, keeping his eyes on the woman's face," and she's my niece."

"Really? You two look a lot alike." Matt and Taylor share a look, brows furrowed as they search for anything they share besides attitudes. He's only her uncle by marriage, so they share no physical likeness and it just makes it obvious that this woman can't tell the difference between a black man and a Cuban girl.

"Uh… Thanks?" She nods excitedly, like she's just paid them a compliment instead of showing how few brain cells she has left. "What's my total?"

"Oh, right." She pulls back and looks to the register, typing a few things before smiling at Matt again. "Thirty-seven dollars and eighteen cents." Matt pulls his wallet out and hands her the money, eager to get out before she asks him anything else. That's why Taylor likes her uncle, he's completely devoted to her aunt, like a Prince out of a fairy tale. The cashier hands him his change and receipt, unable to get another word out as he grabs the bags and ushers Taylor out of the shop ahead of him.

"What do you think?"

"I didn't like her," Taylor states honestly, letting her uncle put their stuff in the passenger's side of the truck. He lifts her up afterwards and she takes up her usual seat in the middle, buckling her seatbelt herself as he climbs in.

"I didn't either." She rests her head against his side as he starts the truck and pulls out of the parking space. He smells like the fancy cologne her daddy wears, meaning he'd used the stuff Taylor had picked out the other day because he knows she misses the smell of it. _Uncle Matt's the best_.

The Dollar Tree turns out to be just two blocks away, busier than the hardware shop had been, but not by much. The town is tiny and Taylor can't believe how people can live without a mall to go walking around in when they were bored.

"I was a really good girl on the way here, you know."

"I'm aware, Taylor."

"And I wasn't too bad in that dumb store."

"I guess you weren't."

"So does that mean I can have—"

"Ask for Playdough and we'll head home right now." She purses her lips but says nothing more as they get out and Matt leads the way inside. The store is tiny like the town is, all the shelves close together with toys piled up in some of the aisles; the fluorescent lights overhead keep flickering like they will go out at any moment. Taylor and Matt stand in the doorway for a moment, ignoring the old couple staring at them as Matt tries to find the aisle with the toys that won't break after five minutes.

"Over here." She tugs on his hand until he follows her over to the middle aisle where she's able to see outside toys. The left half is filled with the toys she likes, the right one filled with slippers and old lady shirts with the ugly floral designs on them. She scans the toys until she finds a sparkly blue jump rope, pointing at it with her head tilted back to look at her uncle. "That one, Mattie."

"Anything else while we're here?" She bites her lip as she thinks it over, then runs to the small rack of DVDs set up near the counter. They have different kinds all jammed together, but it still doesn't take Taylor long to find one she likes. It's a monster movie that used to scare her when she was a baby, but she's pretty sure she can handle it now. "Are you sure," Matt asks as he takes it from her. "It's not gonna give you nightmares?" Taylor gives him a look that can only be described as patronizing, patting his arm once he'd taken the movie from her.

"I'm a big girl now, Graboids won't scare me."

"If you say so." He picks out a movie for him and Shel before setting everything down on the counter. The person in charge of the register in this store is a boy with pimples all over his face and a Superman curl, working silently as he scans the toy and movies and stuffs them in a plastic bag.

"Excuse me," the old lady from earlier says as she comes over," but I've never seen you here before."

"That's because we've never been here before." Taylor scoots closer to her uncle, clutching at the hem of his shirt as the lady looks them over. "I actually grew up in the town down the road. I'm Matt Miller." He holds out his hand for her to shake, but she just looks down her nose at it like he's diseased. "Uh… This is my niece." The old lady turns her gaze to Taylor, not looking impressed.

"She's one of 'em Mexicans."

"I've never been to Mexico," Taylor says smartly, frowning up at the woman. "My mommy says there's bad people there _and_ here that hurt others that didn't do nothing to them. Are you one of those people, lady?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you a bad person that wants to hurt someone 'cause you don't like what color they are?" The old woman looks mortified and Taylor smiles up at her sweetly, taking her uncle's hand again. "Mommy said there's a word for people like you, she said you're called assholes." Matt snorts, holding his hand out for a high-five.

"Well, I think that pretty much sums it up," Matt nods, taking the bag and receipt from the cashier. "Have a nice day, ma'am." They're both smiling as they walk out of the store, Taylor glad she'd finally been able to use her first swear word. "Remind me to feed you ice cream for breakfast in the morning."

"Strawberry with whipped cream and sprinkles."

"Is there any other way to eat ice cream?" He lifts her up into the truck and follows suit, letting her hold the shopping bag while he begins to drive again. She pulls her new movie out to look at the pictures on the back of it, smiling at the two men dressed like cowboys and the giant worms that used to scare her. They're the size of cars and live under the ground, and they use sound to hunt since they're blind as bats. She's wondering if she can outrun one when a loud banging starts up, making Taylor let out a cry of surprise and grab onto her uncle's arm.

"What's that?"

"It's a hailstorm." She raises her brows, Matt laughing when he meets her stare. "Little balls of ice are falling from the sky."

"That's weird."

"That's North Carolina weather." She spends the rest of the ride watching the hail falling from the sky with wide-eyed wonder. If they have ice falling from the sky, then what other kind of funky weather did this state have? The worst bit of weather California usually gets is when the temperature dips below seventy, but that's even rare in the Christmas month.

With the combination of her restless night and the hail pinging off the roof of the truck, Taylor is fighting to stay awake not even halfway back to the house. Sleep is pulling at her and her grasp on her movie is growing slack, but she's nothing if not stubborn and refuses to fall asleep when she needs to explain to her aunt what hail is.

Most of it has cleared up by the time they make it back to the house, Aunt Shel waiting for them on the front porch. "Aunt Shel," Taylor calls, climbing over her uncle and jumping out before he even has the chance to undo his seatbelt. "Guess what we saw on the way back!"

"I-I don't know, what'd you see," she asks distractedly. Taylor doesn't protest as she's picked up by her aunt, but she does when Shel tries to hug Matt and ends up smooshing Taylor between them. She wriggles until she's set back on her feet, then points up at the sky proudly.

"I saw a hailstorm!"

"You saw it, too?"

"Yeah, it scared me at first, but Uncle Matt said it was just normal weather. I got a new movie, too!" But Shelby is focused on Matt, her arms wrapped tightly around him and her whole body trembling. "What's wrong, Aunt Shel?"

"That hailstorm…."

"What about it," Matt asks when Shelby trails off, pulling back so he can look at her.

"It was _human teeth_."


	5. The Strong One

**2015**

"It was the bad lady that hut me," Taylor explains quietly, grasping her left arm and rubbing the faint scar there. "I was going downstairs to the living room to pick out a movie and she started yelling at me." Taylor flinches at the memory, parts of it blurry while others are clear as a bell. "She said we was trespassing on her land and that she would bathe in our blood if we didn't leave. I didn't believe her, none of the other ghosts have ever been able to hurt me, and I told her that it wasn't her house no more. I told her I wasn't afraid of her and that made her mad."

"What did she do to you Taylor," Sidney asks, leaning forward in his seat with his notebook perched on one knee. Taylor leans back instinctively, wanting to put some space between them. After that night, the bad night that still makes her wake up screaming, Taylor doesn't like strangers to be close to her.

"She punched me in the stomach and then she kicked me down the stairs. I don't remember a lot of it, but I remember my arm hurting after I landed on it and how bad the shot the doctors gave me felt. After that, I just got really mad and I wanted to hurt the bad lady back." Taylor looks up, her gaze locking with Sidney's. "I still want to make her hurt like she made us. I _will_ do it one day."

 **2014**

It's almost eight at night when Shelby hears a light knock on the door of her bedroom, glancing up from her book in time to see her niece poking her head through the gap between the door and the wall. "What's up," she asks Taylor with a smile.

"Daddy's done reading," Taylor answers, stepping inside with the cellphone clasped in both of her hands. She looks so unsure of herself and keeps her eyes on the ground like she's afraid to look up or something. It's odd behavior, but Shelby supposes that she had acted pretty odd herself when her own mother passed away. She still feels that ache in her chest, but it seems to have doubled now that her older sister has died of the same illness.

"You wanna come sit with me for a little bit?" Taylor nods and slides her feet across the floor, her Mickey Mouse socks making her almost glide over to the bed. Taylor is able to climb up onto the bed by herself and she scoots close to Shelby's side, smiling a little when Shelby wraps an arm loosely around her shoulders.

"Do you think Mommy went to Heaven?"

"I'm positive that she did. In fact, she's probably looking down on us as we speak, making sure her baby's all nice and warm." Taylor nods, but her smile slowly turns into a worried frown. "What is it, honey?"

"I miss her." Her eyes have filled with tears and Shelby holds her tightly against her chest, wanting nothing more than to bring Monica back so Taylor would have a mother that knew what she was doing. Shelby can barely take care of herself at this point, the house giving her the creeps and the loss of her own baby making it difficult to stay in the present instead of checking out completely. "And I miss my daddy."

"I know you do, baby," Shelby murmurs, rubbing the little girl's back soothingly," and I'm so sorry you're having to go through all of this." Shelby's eyes sting with tears, but she fights them back for the moment. She needs to be strong right now, for her niece if nothing else. "You know what? Why don't we go curl up on the couch downstairs like we used to when you'd come visit me?" Taylor sniffles and pulls back to look up at her, using her fist to wipe her tears away.

"With blankets and pillows?"

"And hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows." Shelby smiles when her niece does, brushing some of the blonde hair off her face from where the tears has made it stick. It's still so weird to see how similar Taylor and Monica are despite Taylor's light brown skin; the same button nose, pale gray eyes, and beautiful smile that makes Shelby glad to claim this kid as her family. "You go and pick out the movie and I'll gather up our stuff." Taylor gives and excited nod, scrambling to get off the bed and running across the room.

"Aunt Shel?"

"Yeah?" Taylor has paused in the doorway, one impossibly tiny hand grasping the frame as she looks at Shelby over her shoulder.

"I love you bunches." Shelby manages a laugh at that, relief making her chest feel a little less tight. Taylor is affectionate, but she isn't the type to say those four words very often and it makes Shelby glad to know that she's still loved despite bringing Taylor all the way to North Carolina with its creepy houses and toothy hailstorms.

"Ditto, Princess." Taylor giggles at that and sprints away, Shelby able to hear her footsteps on the stairs. Knowing Matt will be in the kitchen and perfectly capable of helping guide Taylor away from any monster movies, Shelby focuses instead on piling pillows in the middle of the bed before wrapping them all up in the heavy comforter.

This is an old tradition from when Shelby was still going to college and Taylor would come visit her in the dorm. The two of them along with Shelby's roommate would pile up on the couch with all the pillows and blankets they could find, drink hot chocolate and eat French Fries from McDonald's, and then they'd watch Disney movies or the Star Wars trilogy. It usually ended with all of them passed out halfway through, Taylor lying across their laps with dried chocolate and salt covering her face. It was back before Monica got sick, so it should give Taylor something fun to focus on instead of the fact that her mother is currently being buried.

Shelby shakes her head and moves across the hall to Taylor's bedroom, humming as she picks up the little teddy bear and Taylor's favorite pillow. It actually belongs to Nico, but Taylor brings it with her whenever she stays the night so she still has part of home. Nico's soap clings to the soft fabric of the pillowcase and it helps to soothe Taylor before she goes to sleep.

Once Shelby adds the pillow and teddy to the nest of blankets in her arms, she moves to the top of the stairs and freezes in confusion. Taylor is standing on the bottom step, brows furrowed as she stares up at the top where Shelby is standing.

"Taylor, are you okay?" She doesn't say anything, just keeps staring at something with narrowed eyes. She seemed to be growing angry or frustrated about something, but Shelby can't be sure about what. "What are you doing?"

"She's being mean," Taylor practically growls, raising her chin ever so slightly. "She's yelling at us to get out, but it's not her land anymore."

"Who's yelling?" Is she having some kind of seizure? Blanking out of reality or just imagining something because she's so tired? Shelby isn't sure, but the fact that her niece is yelling at some imaginary woman has her on edge.

"The bad lady." Taylor's hands bunch into tight fists at her sides, some of her hair falling loose from the braid it's still in. "Go away! I'm not afraid of you!" What happens next seems to play out in slow motion, Taylor letting out a choked gasp as she doubles over, small body flying backwards off the stair and twisting midair. Shelby is paralyzed, only able to watch in terror as her niece lands hard on her arm, the loud _crack_ and her shout that follows breaking the spell.

Shelby drops everything she holds, taking the stairs two at a time and falling to her knees when she finally reaches her niece on the floor. Taylor is crying loudly, clutching her wrist against her chest as Shelby turns her over and hauls her up into her arms. Her upper lip is bleeding and there is a dark red mark visible just over the neck of Taylor's sweater, but neither of those things are what cause Shelby to feel sick to her stomach.

"Oh, my God," she gasps out, turning her gaze to Matt as he comes running into the room.

"What the hell happened," Matt demands as he kneels next to them, staring down at their niece with wide eyes. "Shelby!" She jumps at the shout, shaking her head a little.

"I don't…. She was yelling that there was a bad woman on the stairs and then she just went flying backwards like someone had kicked her. No one was there, Matt. I was the only other person on the stairs and I was at the very top! Oh God, her wrist!" The wrist of her left arm is dented in the center, a bit of white bone sticking out surrounded by blood that stains the white fabric of Shelby's pajama bottoms.

"Go get her coat and shoes and meet me in the truck." Matt scoops her up in his arms and starts to run. "And get something hard to rest this arm on until we get her to the hospital!"

* * *

Shelby looks up as Matt walks back into the hospital room, his hands full with two cups of coffee and a balloon tucked under his arm. "I stopped by the gift shop," he explains, handing Shelby a cup before setting the other on a table and tying the string of the balloon to the hospital bed. "I thought she'd like it when she woke up." Taylor is still fast asleep because of the anesthesia, her left arm in a purple cast.

"She'll love it even more because it came from her favorite uncle."

"I'm her only uncle." Shelby smiles up at him, sliding her free hand into his and squeezing it. "Unless your aunt gets married again, then I'm her only uncle that isn't into ladies pushing fifty."

"Which definitely makes you the best." He gives a soft laugh, sitting beside her on the edge of Taylor's bed. The thought of her only niece being hurt so badly in a place where she's meant to feel safe makes Shelby's stomach churn. She isn't even sure how it had happened; one second Taylor was yelling at some kind of invisible friend and then she was flying through the air. It's just so wrong and horrible.

"Daddy," Taylor moans, reaching out blindly until Shelby grasps her little hand.

"Aunt Shel's right here, baby."

"I want my daddy." Shelby props her up just enough to slide in beside her, wrapping Taylor up in her arms. "Why isn't Daddy here yet?"

"He can't get a flight out yet, but he said he's coming as soon as he can." Shelby had called him as Taylor was wheeled away to get her bone reset, telling him that his daughter had simply fallen down a couple of stairs since there's no real way to explain what had happened. All Shelby can think of is ghosts, but that's ridiculous. "Go back to sleep. You need your rest."

"We can't go home."

"Why not," Matt asks.

"'Cause the bad lady is there and she wants to hurt us." Shelby and Matt share a look, each of them wondering if one of the hillbillies had put the idea of ghosts in Taylor's head. Shelby certainly wouldn't put it past them since they seemed just the type to terrify a little girl with an overactive imagination. After all, one of them had been screaming and tearing up the trashcans just two nights ago. "She said she's gonna make us hurt real bad, Uncle Matt."

"Don't you worry, Princess, I won't let anyone lay a hand on you for as long as I live." And sitting there in the hospital, rage burning in Matt's dark eyes, Shelby can believe it. Matt is a man of his word, if he said he'd protect this little girl, then not even an ax murderer would come between the two of them. It's why Shelby loves him so much, his need to protect everyone he loves and cares for.

She'd been so scared after the attack in California, when he didn't wake up for so long in the hospital, but then he'd squeezed her hand and his eyes had opened. Even recovering from his surgery, he'd put her needs first and agreed to move the first chance they got because California held too many bad memories for her to stay there a moment longer than was necessary. And then Monica had passed away in the middle of the night, leaving Nico inconsolable and Shelby numbed by shock.

Monica had been the strong one, always there when Shelby needed someone to lean on. It would be years until Shelby stopped reaching for her phone first thing in the morning, wanting to call her sister and ask how the night had been. Now Shelby has to be the strong one, she has to make sure that Taylor is dressed for the day and fed, has to check up on her brother-in-law every other day to make sure he hasn't fallen to pieces as he planned the funeral.

Shelby has to be there for her family and she'll hurt anyone that tries to stop her.


	6. Shrill Screams

**2015**

"That was a bad night," Taylor says after a moment of tense silence," I don't like talking about it." She shakes her head, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them as she stares down at the floor. It's clean, just like the other interview rooms she'd seen on the way here, not even a hint of dirt to ruin it. She can see her reflection in the linoleum; it's warped and hard to make out, but it's still there.

"How did that night start," Sidney asks, ignoring the look Nicolás sends his way. The older man isn't happy about any of this, but it's the only way that his daughter will actually open up about what had happened. It was traumatizing to him, so he knows it had to be even worse for a little girl that can't process everything as quickly as an adult. The few times she does drift off are often plagued by nightmares and Nico hates listening to his baby's screams.

"Uncle Matt left us." She sniffles and Nico reaches out a hand to smooth down her hair. "He had to go to work selling things for his company and Daddy was still in LA."

"I'd buried Mon that afternoon," he says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks. "There had been a delay due to the preacher being sick and I still had to deal with paperwork." He gives a dry laugh, remembering that day with grim smile. "Turns out owning your own firm isn't as easy as I thought when I graduated college." Things had been so bright back then, he had a good job that would give him experience, he had a wife that was the most beautiful woman he'd ever known, and a little girl that would be born any moment, though she appeared three days late all the same.

"It was already dark when Uncle Matt left and Priscilla was confusing, but I couldn't talk to her because Aunt Shel was nearby and she didn't believe me. I think she was in the Nile."

" _Denial_ , Princess."

"That's what I said." He manages a huff of laughter, running a hand through his dark hair while she continues talking. "Aunt Shel spent two days telling me that ghosts aren't real and I must have just tripped going down the stairs. Anyway, she was going to play in the hot tub and said I could go upstairs to snoop through the box that Daddy had sent, so that's what I did." She looks up at Nicolás, her fingers toying with the straps of her shoes. "Edward helped me read part of Mommy's favorite poem and a little after that was when Aunt Shel started to scream."

 **2014**

It takes a few days for Taylor to get used to her cast and not being able to use her left arm for anything, but she manages well enough as she sits in the living room and practices writing. "At least you're not left-handed," Matt comments as he and Shelby come downstairs. He stops beside her and bends down to press a kiss to the top of her head like he always does before he leaves. "And you're doing really great with your E's now."

"I always made good E's," Taylor protests. "You're just jealous that yours aren't as swirly."

"Hey, where'd you get that necklace, Tay?" She grasps it loosely in her right hand and holds it up so she can see it again, smiling at the oval stone surrounded by small circles of gold and pearls.

"The man in the attic gave it to me because I got hurt. He said he didn't like me, but that no kid should be pushed down the stairs by someone bigger than them." Matt and Shelby share a look before both of them kneel in front of her, taking necklace off of her to look at it closer. Taylor thinks it's really pretty and she would've given Edward a hug for it if he hadn't put his hand against her head to stop her in her tracks.

"When was there a man in our house?"

"He's always in our house, you just can't see him like I can." She shrugs, taking the necklace back and giving her uncle a tight hug. "I love you, Mattie."

"I-I love you, too." He presses another kiss to her forehead before standing with his suitcase in hand, watching as she gathers up her papers and crayons. She struggles a little since she can only use one hand, but she manages to get everything together before running up the stairs to Matt and Shelby's bedroom.

Matt will be gone for the next couple days because of his work, so Shelby has Taylor sleeping next to her. Taylor isn't sure why she can't sleep in her own bed, but she thinks it has something to do with her aunt being scared.

She sets her things down on the bedside table before crawling up onto the big bed and wiggling under the covers, her teddy bear held tightly against her chest as she tries to fight sleep for a little while. She wants to say goodnight to Priscilla like she has almost every night since moving in. The little girl isn't very fun to play with inside the house, always disappearing when an adult comes near or the constant exposure to light making her eyes look like black pits, but she brings in flowers and is helping Taylor to make a circlet of them.

Without fail, the sound of small feet on the wooden floor starts up and then Priscilla is standing beside Shelby's side of the bed, head cocked to the right. She isn't happy, she never is, and her blackened lips are drawn down in a frown like she's disappointed about something.

"What's wrong," Taylor whispers, not wanting to get in trouble with her aunt. "Why are you so sad tonight?"

"She's angry with you," the little girls says, her accent thick and hard to understand. "She's going to hurt all of you if you don't leave." Taylor frowns too, bottom lip poking out as she thinks that over. "You have to make them leave, Taylor."

"Or what? She can't hurt my aunt and uncle since she could barely manage to punch me."

"Don't be so stupid, the Blood Moon is almost full and you know what that means!" Taylor opens her mouth to remind the ghost that she doesn't know what it means on account of Priscilla keeping it a secret, but that's when Shelby decides to walk inside. They lock gazes for a moment, Shelby looking more confused than ever while Taylor looks as though she's just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Uh…. Sweet dreams?"

"I'm gonna go take a dip in the hot tub, do you want to come," Aunt Shel asks, deciding not mention Taylor talking to thin air again.

"No, I wanna stay up here."

"Okay, yell if you need me." Taylor nods and turns her gaze back to the dead girl, not surprised to find that she isn't there anymore. "Nico's package arrived this afternoon when you and Matt were taking a nap if you want to go dig through it."

"Where's it at?"

"That upstairs room. I figured we could put up a wall and separate the attic into two rooms so you'll have somewhere to play and your dad will have an office." Taylor isn't entirely sure what her daddy does, but she knows he's gone a lot and he argues with people in his fancy suits. Her mommy always liked it when her daddy dressed up, calling him her handsome man. "How are you feeling, Taylor? With all of these changes, I mean."

"I guess I'm okay." She shrugs, turning in the bed so that her legs dangle over the edge. "I still miss when Mommy would read me those stories, the ones that rhyme."

"So do I, honey." She moves to run her fingers through Taylor's hair, wondering when it had gotten so long. "That book of poetry is in the box your daddy sent, so why don't you go check it out and we'll both change into our jammies when I get back inside?"

"Sounds like a plan." Taylor slides the rest of the way to the floor and sprints out onto the landing, her shoes keeping her from sliding on the hardwood floor as she makes a sharp turn to go up the narrow staircase. She likes the attic room best, it's where half of her toys have ended up since the grumpy ghost is up there every now and again.

Edward isn't the nicest person in the house, but sometimes he'll ruffle her hair or talk about the dresses women in his time had worn. They were like the dresses that Princess's wore when they went to balls, the skirts flaring out as they spun and made up of silks. He likes to talk about those kinds of things and Taylor is certain she can pass an art class with how much he talks about his old paintings.

The room is empty when she finally makes it up the stairs, the box her aunt had told her about sitting right under the window. Taking a moment to look around, Taylor quickly crosses the room and kneels in front of the cardboard box, pulling the flaps open so she can peer inside. There are a few folders inside that Taylor knows is work stuff, a couple of T-shirts that her daddy likes to wear on the weekends, the book of poems, and the little quilt that had been made for Taylor's crib by her great-aunt.

She pulls the quilt and book out before curling up beside the box, using the moonlight pouring inside to make out the note written on the inside cover. The letters are slanted to the right slightly, swirly and pretty the way her daddy always writes. ' _Beautiful poems for my beautiful wife_ ,' it reads, Taylor tracing the letters with one of her fingers. Monica used to read it aloud every time they curled up in her bed to read for the night.

"T-thou wast all that to me, love," Taylor attempts to read, some of the words hard to pronounce," for which my soul did pine—" She cuts herself off, staring at the poem in confusion as she tries to figure out what a soul has to do with pine trees. "This guy don't make any sense."

"Perhaps I could be of assistance?" She looks up at the new voice, spotting Edward standing just inside the room. He doesn't look happy, ghosts rarely are, but he doesn't look annoyed either.

"I thought you hated spending time with people."

"Yes, but I couldn't stand hearing you butcher poetry. Scoot over, child." She does, making room for the ghost to settle down beside her and take the book out of her hands. In the moonlight like he is, she can see the bones beneath his skin and the pits of his eyes. "Thou wast that all to me, love, for which my soul did pine—a green isle in the sea, love, a fountain and a shrine, all wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, and all the flowers were mine."

His voice is soft as he continues to read, like he's forgotten she's there altogether and is reading to someone that he cares deeply for. She likes to think he read to the guy he loved, the one that ran away from here to get help from the police and was never allowed to come back.

"Ah, dream too bright to last—!" Both of them look towards the window when shrill screams reach their ears, the sound muffled by distance and the thick panes of glass. "What on earth is that racket?"

"Aunt Shel!" Taylor scrambles to her feet and runs out of the attic without a second thought, managing to get down the stairs and to the front door before an arm wraps around her waist and hauls her up off her feet, their other hand pressing over her mouth to cut off her screams.

"Quiet or they'll terrorize you, too," Edward hisses in her ear, kicking the front door closed. She struggles to get out of his grip, but he's stronger than he looks and has no trouble carrying her into the pantry. He drops her there without preamble, one shoe-clad foot pressing against her chest to keep her down. The heel of it hurts every time she wiggles, but she's stubborn beyond anything else. "They cannot kill anyone just yet. Your aunt will be fine."

"I don't believe you!"

"And I don't care! I'll not have a child killed in my home while I'm around to stop it." She glares up at him, breathing hard and going limp beneath his foot. "There, now was that so bad?" The second his foot leaves her chest, she's up and running again with Edward chasing after her.

"Aunt Shel, Aunt Shel!" She actually makes it outside this time, barreling right into her aunt and sending them both to the ground. Shelby sits up quickly, wrapping Taylor up in her arms and sprinting back in the house, pausing only long enough to make sure the front door is locked before continuing up to her bedroom. "What happened?"

"The hillbillies," Shelby gasps, dropping Taylor on the bed and diving for her cellphone. Her hands are shaking as she dials, but she manages to get the police on the phone all the same, followed by Matt.

The next thirty minutes are spent in tense silence, Shelby holding Taylor close once she'd changed out of her bathing suit. Taylor remains quiet even after the police show up demanding to know what had happened, knowing they'll never believe that it was ghosts and not crazy people that had attacked her aunt. _What's the point of telling the truth when nobody believes you?_

So Taylor is promptly sent to her room and she stays there until she hears her uncle Matt downstairs. He catches her as she comes running to him, holding her out a little so he can look her over for any bruises or cuts.

"Are you okay," he asks, voice breaking at the end. "Still in one piece?"

"Just scared," she assures him with a nod, wrapping her arms around his neck as he starts up the stairs. "Aunt Shel won't come out of her room and those police guys were really rude." He pauses outside the bedroom, looking to his niece again in concern. "They said she was making stuff up, they said she just wanted attention since I didn't see what happened. I heard her screaming, Uncle Matt, she was _scared_ of something."

"It's alright now, Tay, I'm gonna protect you both." He turns and goes into Taylor's room, gently sitting her down on her bed and removing her shoes and socks. "Right now, I need you to get ready for bed while I go talk to Shelby, alright? I'll be back in few minutes to read you a story. Goodnight, honey."

"Night, Mattie."


	7. Children of the Corn

**2015**

"Edward kept me safe when the other ghosts came inside the house," Taylor says, smiling a little when she remembers the way his eyes had softened. They were dark brown like her daddy's and stood out against the white pallor of his skin. "Aunt Shel, Lee, and me were stuck in the basement and that's where he found us."

"What happened before that, Taylor," Sidney asks with his Hollywood Smile. It looks as fake as the rest of him and his assistant seems like the only person on his crew that doesn't suck. Diana is nice and pretty, and she likes to sneak cookies inside the interview room during the breaks.

"The nurses threatened to kill me during the full moon. The skinny one said she was gonna hang me up by my ankles and cut me."

"What," Nico asks, eyes wide as he stares down at her. Taylor just shrugs off his response, trying not to focus too much on how scared she had been.

"I was yanked out of bed by my hair and then I started to run away from them. That's when I met Lee and Aunt Shelby downstairs, they looked even more scared than I did. You see, there were weird noises coming from the basement and Lee likes to investigate things; she's even braver than Velma."

 **2014**

Taylor doesn't look away from her Playdough when she hears everyone coming into the house, focusing on making a hat for one of her Polly Pockets. "Taylor," Matt prompts when they come into the living room," say hi to Lee."

"Hi, Lee," Taylor mumbles distractedly. Lee is Uncle Matt's sister and she'll be staying around until Daddy gets here, but that doesn't mean Taylor is happy about it. Lee always snaps at Shel and gives her dirty looks when she isn't looking, which usually leads to Taylor getting in trouble for saying rude things. "Aunt Shel, can you help me with this?"

"Sure thing," Shelby smiles, coming to kneel in front of the coffee table. "What do you need?"

"I can't make a flower for the hat."

"Let's see here…." Shel takes an itty-bitty amount of pink Playdough and one of the plastic knives that came with the set, carefully cutting until she has a perfect circle. "And now comes the fun part. You make it completely flat and cut a few lines just like this." Taylor leans in close to see how her aunt is doing it, watching as she uses the tip of the knife to make the edges of the flower petals round. "And voila!"

"Thanks, Aunt Shel."

"You're very welcome, Tay." Taylor picks the new flower up, careful not to squish it as she lays it down on the little hat, using part of a toothpick to pin it in place. "That's really cute."

"Daddy taught me how to do it before I left. He said everyone should have a nice hat even dollies."

"Your daddy was right." Taylor smiles as she gently sets the hat on the blonde doll's head, an almost perfect fit, though it's a little large on her. "What's this one's name?"

"Tabitha." Taylor doesn't notice the way Shelby's smile dims or the way her shoulders tense up, the older blonde not liking the name in the slightest.

"W-where'd you come up with that name?"

"I heard Mommy saying it last Halloween and I liked it. It's a pretty name, huh?"

"Yes, of course it is." And the subject is dropped, but now Taylor can feel how stiff her aunt is next to her.

"Are you okay, Aunt Shel?"

"I'm fine. Um, I'm gonna go find Matt and see if he's staying for supper." Taylor nods, watching as her aunt takes the stairs two at a time like she can't wait to get away. Taylor doesn't see what the big deal is, it's not like they know anyone with that name anyway. Shrugging, she grabs another doll and props her up against the empty box her Playdough came in, using some string and a marker to measure her head.

That's how she spends the next hour, making hats while Lee and Matt talk about their mom and Shel flips through one of her cookbooks. She doesn't have very many and half of them were from the boxes that Daddy has sent over the last week, but she likes looking at Mommy's handwriting and so does Taylor at nighttime.

By the time Matt says his goodbyes and leaves, Shelby is already in the kitchen preparing dinner while Taylor stays in the living room with the TV on. Aunt Shel says TV rots your brain, so Taylor doesn't get to watch it that much and she's taking advantage of the fact she has a broken arm and can't play much.

"Don't you have something better to watch," Lee complains. "Like Batman?"

"Rugrats is better," Taylor replies, munching on some cucumber slices," and Reptar could totally step on Batman." Lee scoffs and walks off to the kitchen, Shel beginning to yell a second later. Taylor rolls her eyes, snuggling down further on the couch and watching as Tommy and the other babies run away from the big dinosaur.

* * *

You know how in bad dreams when you see something scary, you can't scream? It's like it's stuck in your throat and all that comes out is a hoarse sound? That's how Taylor is feeling as she stares up at the two women in her room, taking in the nurses' uniforms they have on and the sharpened knives in their hands. They're smiling but look more like the witch in the gingerbread house than nice people.

"Aunt Shel," Taylor whimpers, clutching her teddy bear fearfully. "Lee?" Tears sting her eyes and her throat feels tight, like her fear is attempting to strangle her. She just wants to get up and run out of the room, but she can't move, she's afraid the women will get her if she leaves the safety of her bed.

 _Isn't that how it always went? Wasn't there always some hidden monster under the bed just waiting to grab the ankles of little kids and pull them down into their lair?_

"What's her name start with," the chubby one asks, head tilted to the side.

"T," the other states with a frown. "T for termite. She's completely useless for us."

"I've never killed a little kid before. Do you think it's different than adults and old people?" The chubby one's smile widens, her teeth too white and too sharp in the darkness. They're only illuminated by Taylor's nightlight, the pinks and purples not doing much to help Taylor see them better. "I'll bet she squeals like a little piglet."

"Maybe we'll find out soon." The skinny one bends down and grabs a handful of Taylor's hair, wrenching her off the bed and to the floor with a shout. "As soon as the moon is full," she snarls," I'm going to string you up by your ankles, cut you open, and see what falls out."

That's enough to break the spell, Taylor sprinting down the stairs and screaming for her aunt. Lee snatching her up without warning only makes her scream louder, but a warm hand cups her cheek and she recognizes the scent of vanilla lotion her aunt is fond of using.

"Are you okay," Lee demands in a whisper. "What happened?" Taylor wants to tell the truth, wants to tell them that they should all get out of the house, but the tears are coming too fast and her sobs won't stop.

"Here, let me have her." Shelby takes Taylor from Lee and holds her tightly, though it isn't easy since Taylor isn't a toddler anymore. She's a big girl and she's certainly getting heavy.

"Stay up here while I go check out those noises."

"Not happening."

"Look, the baby is obviously upset and I doubt following after an intruder is goin' to calm her down any."

"And if one of them is up here? What, you think I'm strong enough to actually hold them off? I may do a lot of Yoga, but I've got the bravery of Scooby-Doo and the fighting experience to match." Lee gives her an unamused expression but says nothing more as they start for the door that leads to the basement. Now that Taylor is beginning to calm down, she can hear the sound of a man laughing, the noises growing louder when Lee opens the door. "Where's your gun?"

"Where it's supposed to be when there's a kid in the house, locked in a drawer upstairs." Lee is the first one to start down the stone steps, one hand holding tightly to the railing in case one of the steps is slick.

"Shouldn't we go and get it?"

"Do me a favor and shut the hole under your nose." Taylor is set on her feet once they reach the basement, the six year old hiding behind her aunt as Lee pulls a heavy-looking wrench out of an old tool chest. The room is mostly dark as they continue forward, only one overhead light, little more than a lamp, working; it casts an eerie glow in the large room, throwing most things into deep shadow. _Edward would like it a lot down here_.

"It's coming from the TV," Taylor whispers loudly, pointing one little finger at the big black box across the room. It isn't flat like she's used to and it's chunky, but it's working just fine and hooked up to what her daddy called a camcorder. The video playing on the screen is of someone running with the camcorder pointed at the ground, a man talking over it like in nature documentaries.

"It came back," the man behind the camcorder is panting, every sound seeming even louder as it echoes off the concrete walls around them. "I knew it was real!" The man is gasping and swinging his camera around wildly, zooming in on droplets of blood on dying grass and on the trees whenever he hears a noise. "It's close, I know it is." The camera is shaking again, blurring whatever comes on screen next, but then it evens out just enough for Taylor to see a man wearing a pig head.

"It's a monster," Taylor cries, turning and burying her face in her aunt's shirt. The Piggy Man lets out a loud shriek, like the ones they've all been hearing since their first night in the new house. It's loud and hurts Taylor's ears, and she's beginning to wonder if she will ever forget the noise. "Piggy Man's gonna get us!" Shelby wraps her arms around Taylor but stays quiet with her gaze focused on the dirty screen.

"Got you on camera," the man is saying, voice high. "You son of a bitch."

"What the hell was that thing," Shelby demands, voice tight with fear.

"I have no idea," Lee returns. The video ends, the sound of static not helping Taylor's nerves any. "Come on, let's get out of here." She turns and picks Taylor up, holding her on one hip while holding the wrench in her free hand. They barely get two feet away from the TV when the door slams shut with a _bang_ , the light goes out, and the TV screen flickers off. The floorboards overhead are squeaking loudly, like an elephant is parading around the house.

"Someone's up there."

"Yeah, a lot of them goin' off that noise. Shit, get down."

"Why?"

"Someone just walked by that window." Lee nods towards the small, dust-covered window that leads outside, allowing only blurred reflections and not much else. "Taylor, honey, I want you to get under this table and make yourself real tiny, alright? Pretend you're a little mouse hiding from a kitty."

"Alright," she nods. She crawls past one of the wooden legs and curls up into a little ball, keeping her back to the others and the stairs. She tries her best to stay quiet, both hands pressed over her mouth as her aunt quietly begins to freak out. There's a couple of dull thuds and then a light illuminates their section of the room, low to the ground as it moves around. "What—?"

"It's okay, it's just our flashlight." Taylor nods and allows her gaze to wander around the room until she finds a pair of familiar shoes on the other side of the table. They're old and look girly, little two inch heels, and birdies painted along the soles of them. She shuffles closer to the feet, glancing past the stockings, breeches, and fancy tops until she can make out the ashen features of the ghost. Without any light on him, she can make out his high cheekbones and dark brown eyes as he kneels down in front of her.

"Easy, child," he tells her, reaching out to lay one gloved hand on top of her head. "Those blackguards won't be coming down here anytime soon. Rest and I will watch over you."

"You don't like me," she reminds him, voice too soft for the others to hear.

"I may have to make an exception before your time here is through." She gives him a small smile, glad to see what he looks like without the whole Jack Skellington illusion he has going on in daylight. "Sleep, and dream for me. There is a quote you should know while living here, written by a great man that aptly applies to my home. 'If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended, that you have but slumber'd here, while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream.'"

"I like that quote, it reminds me… Of the one…" She yawns and her eyes begin to close as he smooths down her hair. "My mommy said."

"Your mother had excellent taste, then." But Taylor doesn't hear him or anything else he says, sound asleep and safe in dreamland where the only thing she has to worry about is slaying dragons with her teddy bear fighting alongside her.

She doesn't stir as Lee picks her up and the woman is grateful that at least one of the blondes is quiet as they start back up the stairs. The door swings open easily and the house appears empty of intruders again, though what they left behind is disturbing on more levels than one. Little, straw dolls are suspended from the ceiling by rope, like Halloween decorations.

"Were we visited by the Children of the Corn or what," Lee demands irritably. She doesn't want to let on how much it scares her, especially because the webbing of string and dolls continues all the way up to the second floor's ceiling, where no one can reach even if they have help. It's impossible without a ladder and Lee certainly would've recognized that sound if there had been one used.

"How did they do all of this," Shelby asks from beside her.

"I don't know, don't really want to know either. Go and call the cops while I tuck Taylor back into bed." As Lee moves to stand in front of the steps, she finds one of the strings barring the way, reaching from one railing to the other with a doll in the middle. "Or I guess I'll put her on the couch."

"You don't have to worry about covering her up, she just kicks them off." Lee nods, carrying the little girl into the living room and depositing her on the small loveseat. She isn't overly fond of the kid, too spoiled for her liking, but she is a mother above all else and she can't resist tucking a lock of blonde hair behind Taylor's ear to keep it off her face.

"At least you're able to sleep," she says quietly, sitting by Taylor's feet. Lee will probably be awake for the rest of the night, trying to figure out when and how the intruders had got inside without anyone noticing. They're obviously skilled at it since they were able to roll that damn wine bottle into her room without alerting anyone else.

 _But something must have scared the baby._

Perhaps they had a ladder outside and had come in through Taylor's bedroom window? It would explain how they'd snuck past Shelby downstairs and why the kid was so frightened when she came running downstairs. There were two groups if that was the case, one working upstairs and the second coming in through the front door to set up the camcorder and TV.

Lee's train of thought is cut off by sirens, the flashing lights and noise a comfort after sitting in dark silence for thirty minutes or more. It had felt like hours down in the dank basement, but her internal clock is usually right in the long run. She lets Shelby lead the cops inside, not wanting to leave Taylor alone for too long in case someone is still inside. A six year old would put up less of a fight and be the easiest target, so Lee stays right beside her.

"You must be Mrs. Harris," the head honcho says as he walks into the room. He's big and white enough to almost glow in the dark, looking less than pleased to have been called from his cushy office in the middle of the night. "Think you can come out here and give me your statement?"

"Think you can come in here and get it," Lee shoots back, nodding at the slumbering form next to her. The cop frowns and comes in, sitting himself down on the coffee table like it's his God-given right to plant his ass anywhere he feels like it.

"Alright, start at when you noticed somethin' was wrong."

"It was eleven-thirty, I think, I was sleeping upstairs in the guest room—"

"You don't live here?"

"No, I'm just staying out here while my brother is away on business. Like I was saying, I was sleeping upstairs when I heard this howling noise, like someone was standing right outside my window with a bullhorn and an angry pig. I got up to look out the window and somebody rolled a wine bottle into my room."

"Why would they do that?"

"Because they're some kind of prick, I don't know." She takes a deep breath to steady her temper before continuing. "I thought Shelby was pulling some kind of prank on me at the time and went downstairs to confront her, but the front door started opening in the middle of our argument."

"So you and Mrs. Miller were fighting?"

"For a grand total of two and a half minutes, yes. I heard the door open and went to see who was walkin' in, heard some noises in the basement, and was gonna go down to investigate when Taylor here came sprinting down the stairs."

"She tell you why?"

"She was too upset to do anything other than cry, but there were no sounds upstairs. The way I figure it, someone was probably up there and scared her shitless. Either way, she came running down the stairs and I handed her off to my sister-in-law to calm her down. After that, we all went down the stairs and found some sick homemade video of a crazy guy running through the woods."

"Do you still have it?"

"Yeah, you're welcome to go get it from the basement. After the video ended, the door slammed shut, lights went out, and TV turned itself off before a ruckus started up here. Sounded like there was a party goin' on, people just stomping all over and running around the house. We were stuck down there for at least thirty minutes before everything quieted down again. Those creepy dolls were waiting for us when we got back upstairs and that's when I told Shelby to call you guys." The cop grunts, scribbling something down in his little notepad before standing again.

"Well, looks to me like it's vandalism. I'll write up a report when I get back to the station." Lee scowls as he goes down into the basement and she's still looking sour when Shelby comes in a moment later.

"That guy was a complete asshole."

"You should've seen how he was when the hillbillies tried to drown me in the hot tub," she grumbles in response.

 **The quote Edward uses is Puck's monologue from A Midsummer Nights Dream by Shakespeare.**


	8. Déjà Vu

It's late when Nicolás arrives at the house, cutting the ignition and getting out to have a look around. It's large, reminding him of those old horror movies he used to watch in college, surrounded on three sides by dense woods. "Honey," he mutters as he opens the trunk," I'm home."

Nico shoulders his pack and grabs the box holding a few legal documents he has to look over, then slams the trunk closed and starts for the front door. It's going to be weird living so far away from California, but at least he'll be able to see his little girl in person again. He's missed hearing Taylor running through the house and the random hugs she likes to distribute, so it'll be nice to settle back into a routine.

Smiling at the thought of seeing her face light up, Nico unlocks the front door and steps into the front hall, gazing up at the curving staircase in wonder. His house in Cali had been pretty big, but this place really takes the cake.

He follows the sound of soft voices, coming into a nice living room that smells freshly painted, spotting Matt's sister sitting on the couch with a half-awake little girl lying nearby. Taylor has her head in Lee's lap, mumbling sleepily about something or another, too soft for Nico to understand.

"They got you on babysitting duty," he asks, grinning when Taylor's head snaps up and a smile brightens her face. Taylor's off the couch and hurdling towards him in five seconds flat, practically throwing herself forward with the blind faith that her daddy won't let her fall. He catches her with a grunt, hefting her up to sit comfortably against his hip. "Nice to see you again, Lee."

"Yeah, you too," she mumbles back, standing slowly.

"Where is everyone?"

"The hospital right now." Nico arches a brow and Lee shrugs in return. "Shelby ran off in a crying fit and Matt went after her. Apparently he found her a few minutes ago as she came bursting out of the woods like a crazy person before fainting. The text Matt sent me ended up waking Taylor and I was just explaining that things would be okay."

"There was bad people here," Taylor says, eyes shiny with tears. "They ran around the house and- and they pulled me out of bed by my hair!" She points to a spot close to her scalp and Nico can see flecks of dried blood interspersed in the blonde strands.

"Well, I'm here now," he tells her, pressing a kiss to her tender head. "No one's going to be hurting my girl again."

"You'll scare 'em off?"

"That's right, Princess." He sets her back down on the couch long enough to put the box on the coffee table before taking a seat himself. His daughter curls up in his lap, burying her face in his neck. "Why don't we go on upstairs and I'll read to you?" He'd hoped the suggestion would be met with agreement, but Taylor only tightens her hold and shakes her head. "It's almost three in the morning, Taylor. I get that you're worried about Shelby, but it's way past your bedtime."

"You can't actually get upstairs yet," Lee tells him. "The intruders strung up these weird dolls that crisscross all over the stairs and I haven't had a chance to take them down. I didn't want to leave Taylor by herself in case those freaks came back for a second round."

"Seriously?"

"Come see for yourself." He follows her back into the entryway, noticing for the first time that there are crudely made dolls hung up on strings that wind in between the balusters and dangling from the second-floor railing. "Corn husk dolls, like kids would make way back when." Lee shakes her head, the disgust clear. "And those hillbillies think that'll scare my brother out? If nothing else, he'll stay just to show those racists they're not scary."

"It wasn't the hillbillies," Taylor says.

"Then who was it?" She doesn't talk again, not even looking up to see the expectant expression on Lee's face. "She's the only one that got a good look, but I think she's too scared to talk about it. Can't say I blame her, I'd probably be scared if someone snuck into my bedroom, too."

"Let's just take this crap down so I can get upstairs," he grumbles, setting his daughter back on her feet. She doesn't stray far as he and Lee begin untying the intricate knots, Nico beginning to wish he had his glasses since the knots seem to get smaller and smaller the further up they get. By the time they make it to the second floor, an hour and a half has passed and his fingers are beet red.

"At least that's finally done. Now, if you've got Tay, I'm gonna go collapse in my bed for seven hours. If something happens before I wake up, then just leave without me." She disappears around the corner, leaving Nico and Taylor behind. The six year old is curled up on one of the steps, attempting to wiggle a finger into her cast to scratch at the dry skin there. He knows from personal experience how itchy casts are and makes the decision to dig a ruler out tomorrow for her to use until the cast is removed.

"How are you feelin'?" She shrugs in answer, not quite meeting his gaze. It takes his sleep-deprived brain a full minute to realize she's looking at something over his shoulder, but he finds nothing when he turns to look himself. Sure, there's an alarming build-up of dust on the floor, but nothing that would hold his daughter's attention so fully. He looks back to Taylor, but she's still not paying him any attention, laughing at something. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, Daddy," she says quietly, but she's still smiling. "Can we go to bed now? You can sleep with me until Lee goes home."

"Sounds like a plan."

She springs up and grabs his hand, leading him over to one of the doors and pushing it open. It's about the same size as her old bedroom, painted a pale yellow with white trim, a few posters of kittens and fairies tacked to the walls as decoration. Her bed is twin-sized, some old Christmas lights twined around the headboard and shining a beautiful sky blue color. The floor is the same wood as the rest of the house, though there is a fuzzy yellow rug right beside her bed and an old toy chest set against the foot of it. Shelby has done an excellent job replicating Taylor's old room, no doubt hoping it would make the transition easier.

"Come on!" It's only then he realizes he'd stopped in the doorway to examine everything, feeling as though he's been transported back to LA for a moment. His daughter pulling impatiently on his hand to make him come read her a bedtime story, the sound of footsteps just down the hall that means a woman is getting ready for bed, and the smell of strawberries lingering in the air from Taylor's lotion. It's almost too perfect, his eyes stinging as he blinks memories away.

"Right, sorry." He follows her inside, tucking her in beneath the thick pink comforter. "What are we gonna do tonight?" It's an old tradition, one they've done Taylor's whole life, and the blonde's smile brightens even further.

"Have sweet dreams!"

"That's right, the sweetest of dreams ever had." She wiggles around until she's leaning half off the bed, scooping up a book before resituating herself so that she's comfortable again. Nico takes the book from her, letting out a surprised laugh when he recognizes it. _The Princess Bride_ , Monica's well-cared for copy he'd sent with Taylor when she first came to stay with Matt and Shelby. "Alright, now that we know what kind of dreams we'll be having, let's find out how Buttercup's doin'."

He's barley found the right page and looks up again when the faint snoring reaches his ears, Taylor sound asleep with her hands fisted in her covers. She's completely relaxed, features softened and all traces of sadness washed away as she enters dreamland.

With a soft smile, he reaches out to adjust her left arm, careful not to wake her up as he pulls some of the comforter out of the purple cast. He studies it a moment, taking in the names printed in block letters across it, though his smile disappears when he makes it to the elbow. The name there is written in cursive with several flourishes to it, looking more like professional calligraphy as he attempts to make it out.

"Who the hell's Edward," he mumbles, leaning closer to get a better look. As far as he knows, there were no Edwards in Matt's family tree and there damn sure hasn't been any visitors to the house that would've had the chance to sign her cast without her telling him all about it on the phone. Sure, it could've been one of those police officers, but Taylor hadn't sounded very pleased on the phone when she talked about them, so he doubted it.

But the evidence is right there on her cast, signed using a black Sharpie and still looking beautiful. How is that even possible? He can barely write his name in Sharpie on a fucking box without it bleeding through and looking awful, but this man has managed enough swirls and loops to take up the entire elbow. He shakes his head with a sigh, deciding to just ask her in the morning and hope it isn't just one of her imaginary friends again.

With a grunt, he stands and places the book on top of her bookshelf near a Pooh Bear plushie before heading back downstairs. He's exhausted, but he knows the front door needs to be locked. His mind wont' let him rest until he knows the house is secured, so he goes down the list of things he would've done in their old house; lock the doors, check the windows and draw the blinds, and then going back to check the alarm system only to find it missing.

Nico pulls his phone out and types in a memo to buy an alarm system the next time he goes into town. With everything that's happened at this place, he isn't taking any risks when it comes to his baby's safety. Pocketing the phone again, Nico grabs up the box he'd left in the living room and heads up the spiral staircase.

Taylor is still sound asleep when he pokes his head in her room, so he feels comfortable enough to go up in the attic for a few minutes to sort through his stuff. The boxes are piled up against the far wall beneath a window, clearly labeled with black Sharpie that still bled into the cardboard no matter how careful he was. _Maybe I should get some lessons from that Edward guy_. He lets his box drop to the ground, ignoring the dust motes that sway in the moonlight as he begins digging around.

He ends up spending a good three hours in the attic just trying to find some clean pajamas and clothes for the next morning. One of the boxes has already been opened and Monica's book of poetry is missing, Nicolás' heart beating out a fast rhythm as he tries to find it. That is the one book she treasured above all others, so why the _fuck isn't it here?_

He remembers settling it carefully on top of everything else in the box and then sealing it twice with packaging tape to make sure it wouldn't fall out. Yet here the box is, both layers of tape suspiciously missing along with the book.

"No," he mutters, tipping the box over and dumping the contents out. "No, no, no. Where is it? Where's the goddamn book?" He's about ready to storm downstairs and wake Taylor up to see if she'd taken it when he hears a loud thump behind him, the noise like a gunshot in the otherwise silence of the house. Nico spins on his heal, short strands of his black hair hanging in his eyes hindering his sight. He pushes them back impatiently, letting out a whoosh of air when he spots a blue-green book lying near the stairs.

He doesn't question why he didn't see the book when he walked in or what made the god-awful loud noise at first, letting relief consume him as he grabs the book up and holds it tight against his chest as though it's his wife he is hugging instead of her favorite book. In fact, it isn't until he hears the pacing of footsteps nearby that he even bothers to look around.

The attic is still empty apart from him, the faint light not revealing the cause of the noise. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and a tingle shoots up his spine, a feeling a Déjà vu slamming into him like a truck. Suddenly he was in another attic and he was a little boy, talking to a woman that wasn't really there and no one but him could see. He knew she couldn't possibly be real, but his child's mind simply accepted the woman as fact.

With her floaty hair and kind blue eyes, how could she possibly not be real? Her name was Taylor Morris, she'd told him, and she liked to play on the old tire swing in the back yard. She'd mussed his hair the first time he'd acknowledged her and spoke in fluent Spanish like his abuelita, telling him how happy she was that she had someone that could see her again. He remembered the smell of honeysuckle that was prevalent in the south during the summer months, the warmth that filled the attic, and the absolute heartbreak when he had to leave again before school started.

His abuelita passed away soon after that and her house was sold to a nice white couple, so he'd never seen the nice dead woman again. It seems she'd never really left his thoughts considering he'd named his daughter after her, the name carrying a sense of nostalgia even if he wasn't sure why at the time. Now it's clear and he can't help a smile as he comes out of the memory, honeysuckles following him back. Nico takes one last look around the dusty room, tightening his hold on the book.

"Thank you," he says to the dead man just barely visible in the shadows.


	9. A Touch of Darkness

**2015**

"Tell me about the snake," Sidney prompts when Nico and Taylor lapse into silence. Taylor's gaze strays to the little backpack near her chair, the only contents being an old baby blanket and her pet. She read up on adders a lot once she learned how, but her snake seems to act however it wants, a total contradiction to all those websites and Wikipedia articles.

"I got her on the same day that Flora came to stay," Taylor says after a bit. She looks up at the camera, watching the blinking red light. She's growing bored with the constant barrage of questions. "She's a present."

"From one of the ghosts?"

"No."

"Well, who sent it?" Taylor smiles and doesn't answer, a cold thing that she knows sets her daddy on edge. He doesn't understand, doesn't have the same nightmare over and over again with no explanation other than the absolute ruin that's just a few years away. Part of her knows he won't live to see the red skies and gray fog that will choke the life out of people. She doesn't even think he'll make it another two years, but she keeps quiet and makes her smile look warm.

She has her own Hollywood Smile.

 **2014**

Lee's daughter arrives late the next morning as Nico and Taylor are leaving for a picnic. Nico wants to walk through the property and maybe find some evidence that points towards the extras from The Hills Have Eyes as the people that broke into the house last night; Taylor just wants to spend some time with her daddy and see what's so great about a bunch of trees. She can hear the excited shouts of Flora as Taylor and Nico walk out the back door.

The backyard, like most of the property, leads into the woods that surround the house on three sides, the trees rising high above Taylor's head with the scent of pine heavy in the air. Taylor can imagine herself climbing the high branches that tower over everything, seeing the land from a bird's point of view instead of a little girl's that can barely peek over the dash of a car.

"Has your uncle brought you out here before," Nico asks, letting her swing their hands to and fro as they walk.

"No," she answers, gaze wandering around.

"Too scared of hillbillies?"

"And snakes. What's that tree called?" She points to one of the trees spread throughout the pines and cedars, the leaves clinging to the branches a dark brown and crunchy where they litter the ground.

"I don't know. Maple, maybe? We'll have to ask Lee when we get back to the house." Taylor nods, letting her fingers brush over a low-hanging branch as they pass. She likes walking through the woods, though it isn't nearly as fun as walking along the beach like she and her mommy used to do in the mornings.

"Let's go this way." She tugs on his hand until he turns towards the left, Taylor's gaze focused on a blur of movement ahead of her. They're walking for a good ten minutes before she catches sight of blond hair and a loud giggle. Nico doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, but Taylor's used to that.

"What are you looking at?" Taylor doesn't answer him, squinting as she tries to make out anything except for a vague blur thirty yards away. A little boy, she thinks. "Tay?"

"Shh." He's saying something, but she can't quite make it out. It's not just the distance between them, his voice is staticky like a bad telephone call. "I can't hear him," she mumbles, taking a step forward. "Speak louder, dude."

"Hear who? Taylor?" She drops her daddy's hand and moves a few feet closer, leaves crunching under her wellies. The boy is flickering in and out of view, turning gray and then disappearing altogether. She frowns, stamping her foot with the frustration welling up in her belly. What good is it to talk to ghosts when they just disappear?

"He's gone."

"Who's gone?"

"Nobody." She shrugs and turns back the way they came, dragging her feet with Nico trailing after her. "I wanna play inside."

* * *

Nico's drawn out of his thoughts as he comes up to the second-floor landing, intending to go set up his half of the attic when he's distracted by a faint talking. It's not surprising, the house is full and two members are little girls that talk to just about anyone. Except everyone else is downstairs playing Sorry, all except for his daughter; she'd feigned a stomach ache and dashed upstairs like her nightgown was on fire.

She's been acting weird since their walk in the woods, mumbling softly under her breath like she was sharing secrets with someone. Nico can't even blame it on ghosts, there were no shadows that didn't belong or flashes of color from the corner of his eye. Nothing. And his daughter isn't the type to come up with imaginary friends, the kid doesn't even talk to her Barbies because she can't get the different voices just right. He comes over to her closed door, resting his ear against it to listen in.

"Of course, I love her," Taylor is saying. "Yeah, she's pretty even if she is a little cold." There's a moment of silence, like she's listening to a reply. "I saw you in the woods today, but you weren't really here, were you? You're still in California with your nana." Another silence, this one longer than the last, followed by a soft hissing. "What do you mean my daddy's listening in?"

Nico isn't sure what he's expecting when he opens the door—a ghost of some sort maybe—but it certainly isn't his little girl sitting in the middle of the floor with a snake coiled loosely around her wrist, tongue flicking out lazily.

"Jesus Christ," he shouts, taking a step forward on instinct and freezing when the snake hisses.

"Hi, Daddy."

"H-hi, Princess." The snake, sleek and black with a hint of red in its scales, wraps slightly tighter around Taylor's arm. "What are you doing with that snake?" She tilts her head and raises her arm, observing with not a hint of fear in her gray eyes. She's always been curious about animals, but Nico never thought she'd be curious enough to pick up a snake.

"Playing with it, duh."

"Where'd you get it?"

"My cousin sent it to me. He said it's because he needs a friend." She giggles, like it's all a big game to her. "She's a black adder and I've named her Eve."

"Do you think you can get it off your arm without making it mad? Black adders can really hurt you." Taylor glances over at him and the anger burning in her gaze takes him by surprise, her features seeming to sharpen until she looks like someone else entirely. But then she's back to his baby girl, round cheeks still holding their baby fat and small hand coming up to trace the V of the snake's head.

"Eve won't hurt me." She gets up all the same and walks over to her toybox where a nest of blankets has been created, letting the snake slide off and curl up around a Tigger plushie. "She'll hurt you, though, so don't touch her." There's a hard edge to her voice, one that doesn't quite belong to Taylor but he's heard before. It was years ago, a family reunion with that drunken aunt Shelby and Monica rarely speak of.

It makes something inside him squirm, and a voice hisses that his baby girl's got a touch of darkness in her.


	10. Once Upon a Time

**2015**

"Do either of you know much about the original settlers," Sidney asks, settled back in his chair despite how uncomfortable it looks. Taylor's not even that comfy in her own chair and she has plenty of room considering how small she is. "The ones that were led by the Butcher?"

"I never felt up to doing that research," Nico mumbles, glancing down at his hands. He still wears his wedding ring and he fiddles with it when he's nervous, twisting it around his finger exactly seven times like that's the magic number to bring Mommy back. Monica's moved on, she's not a ghost and she's not coming back. "I argued a little with the bank about selling the house without releasing any information about the deaths on the property, but that's about it."

"What about you, Taylor? Did you ever get curious?"

"Edward told me one day."

"Edward Mott? The ghost?" Taylor nods and picks up her backpack, settling it carefully in her lap. Eve doesn't like to be jolted, she gets cranky and refuses to cooperate.

"Yeah, I was in the basement with him when Mason took Flora home and Lee got drunk as a skunk."

"Can you tell us?"

"Once upon a time, a group of people came to America from England to build a colony of their own. They thought they'd build such a grand village that even their Queen would beg for the chance to come and visit them. The women and men alike worked hard to create small shelters and hunt for food, but North Carolina seemed to hate them from the start.

Native Americans would attack them at night and steal their food, trying to drive them off land that had been claimed falsely. New diseases made some of them sick and killed others, structures collapsed when they'd been sound just days before. A few of the settlers went back to England where rules were established and they never spoke of America for the rest of their lives.

One day, their governor decided to go on a supply run that would take him a few months and he left his wife in charge. Several men resented having to follow a woman's rules, but Thomasin White made it clear in the very beginning that she wasn't afraid of going up against anyone that questioned her authority.

Their food begins to dwindle and winter is going to be harsh without proper shelter, so it's suggested to Thomasin that they move inland until it grows warm again. She refused, she wanted to wait on her husband so he wouldn't think they'd all abandoned him. The men grow restless, they form a coup and lock her head in a scold's bridle and banished her into the woods.

She was out there on her own for days, no food or water, no company to keep her entirely sane. All she had were her prayers and the knowledge that she was about to be killed by a wild boar that had been stalking her since she left the settlement. So, in the moonlight, she knelt and offered up her soul to God, but it wasn't Him that spared her.

The witch of the woods, beautiful and sinful and full of old magic, knelt and spoke the old words and offered Thomasin the boar's heart and her own life in exchange for her soul. Thomasin accepted, the cage fell off her head and she devoured the boar's heart to get her strength back. The magic flowed into her, warmed her aching bones and gave her the strength to hunt down her colony, to drive a cleaver into a man's head and regain control over the settlers.

They were too afraid to rebel after that, starving and prepared to worship gods that they've never heard of if it means the hardships lessen. They prospered, praying to their gods and their witch, committing human sacrifice to stay alive just a while longer. Everything seemed so wonderful at first, but then the mumbles began again.

What would happen when they died? Because, faithful or not, everyone will eventually die whether for stealing crops or of sickness. Where would they go if they have no souls? Saint Peter surely wouldn't allow sinners into Heaven and that really only leaves one destination left.

Their chosen speaker was Ambrose White, Thomasin's own son, and he tried so hard to convince his mother to repent. To turn back to God and banish the witch back where she came from. He told her that he and the others would go back to England where they know their God is, where they can confess their sins and regain their souls. Thomasin didn't appreciate that very much.

The witch of the wood knew of a ritual that would keep the settlers from leaving, that would keep them in line under Thomasin's power. It's an easy task to manage and Thomasin knew it was the only way to keep things as they're meant to be. The next night, before the settlers would leave back for England, she made them a rich feast. She poisoned them and butchered them and bound them to the land with a single word.

Croatoan."

 **2014**

Taylor jerks awake when she hears her uncle screaming, head foggy with sleep even as she stumbles out of bed and makes her way down to the first floor. Matt's frozen in the archway of the dining room, the color drained from his face and his eyes moving rapidly back and forth like he's sound asleep. She moves to stand next to him, the dining room empty of anything interesting.

"Mattie," she asks, looking up at him. He doesn't move, doesn't even seem to notice her at all. Taylor wraps her hand up in his and then she can hear it, the giggling laughter of nurses and the _crack_ of gunfire seconds before her uncle begins to scream again. Matt tears out of the house, yanking Taylor along with him without even realizing until they're both standing by the cruiser parked in the driveway, Matt banging on the window with his free hand.

"Someone's in the house," he yells, frantic as the door swings open and the officer leans out. "T-they shot an old lady in my dining room! There's people in there!"

"Calm down," the cops says, getting out of his car and holding up a placating hand. "Easy, you're gonna scare your kid." That's about when Matt realizes she's outside with him in only her nightgown, shivering as the wind picks up.

"Jesus, Tay…." He trails off, horrified. "Come here, baby." Matt picks her up and she's grateful for his warmth, burying her face in his neck as he tries to explain to the cop what he'd just seen. It's not going to do him any good, the scene he witnessed is just an old memory that the house won't let go and the cop isn't going to find any dead people or crazy nurses inside.

"Alright, hang back and I'll go check this out." The cop starts forward but pauses at the front door when he notices Matt and Taylor right behind him. "I told you to hang back."

"My family's still in there." The cop rolls his eyes and continues inside, flashlight illuminating the dark spaces of the front entrance. Nico, Shelby, and Lee have gathered at the bottom of the stairs, watching on as the cop searches through the living and dining rooms. Taylor can spot the vague outline of one of the ghosts, clinging to the ceiling above the coffee table like a spider.

"Sir, there's no dead woman in your dining room."

"But they were here not two seconds ago." He stands next to the cop, shaking his head in confusion. He's normal, not a psychic bone in his body, but Taylor understands all the same. This type of thing, seeing death around every corner, is brand new and shocking for people like Matt. It shocked Taylor the first time it happened to her; a little girl in bloody clothes asking Taylor to have a tea party in their old house, Taylor only three and not understanding why her new friend had a deep gash across her throat.

"Did you see anything, sweetheart?" She remembers the last promise she made to her mommy, that she'd try and keep quiet about seeing the dead things. Taylor meets the cop's stare and holds it, giving a firm shake of her head.

"I didn't see anything," she says. "I just woke up cause Uncle Matt was yelling." The betrayal in Matt's gaze should probably make her feel guilty, but she feels nothing. She isn't lying, she didn't even hear anything until she held Matt's hand and the cop didn't ask her if she'd _heard_ anything. "Can I go to bed now?"

"Yeah," Matt nods, setting her down. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's alright." She pats his arm sympathetically, giving him a small smile that makes some of his worry lines smooth out. "This house is weird. I have bad dreams that seem real, too." She leaves the adults downstairs, not even sparing a glance at the other girl as Flora ducks into the little closet where Priscilla likes to hide.

Waiting on her pillow is Eve, the snake coiled up like a length of rope with the moonlight almost making her scales look blue.

* * *

Mason shows up two days later, just as broad and tall as Taylor remembered him being from the few times she'd actually seen him. He doesn't seem happy to be here at all, frowning as he glances around. "Hey, Mason," she mumbles, a popsicle in hand.

"Hey, kid." He doesn't talk much, mostly takes up space unless Flora is around to cheer him up. She's not, though, Flora's tucked away in the crawlspace upstairs with Priscilla. Taylor's a little jealous, the ghost seems to like the other girl better and Taylor's been ignoring them both for the entire weekend.

"Are you here to pick up Flora?"

"Yep."

"Cool." They stand in awkward silence for a minute, avoiding eye contact until Taylor decides Edward should definitely learn what a popsicle is and dashes off for the basement. He's taken to hiding out down there now that Nico is working for hours on end in the attic, the ghost grumbling about the dust building up and the clutter of useless junk.

She finds him sitting at the table Taylor had hidden under just a week ago, drumming his fingers against the wood without smearing the dust. Edward doesn't even glance up at first, mumbling under his breath about not having any peace and quiet even in the afterlife.

"You should try going outside sometime," she suggests, sitting across from him on a stool that's seen better days. "It's plenty quiet out there. Even the Butcher doesn't crawl out of her hiding spot until nighttime."

"Not always, little one. The closer it gets to the Blood Moon, the more you'll be seeing of her and her little band of miscreants."

"Tell me about them."

"About the settlers?"

"Yeah. Tell me why they got stuck here before you even had a house." Edward doesn't smile often but it looks nice on him, he's got the lips for it. His eyes, a rich brown that borders on black, light up and Taylor just knows that this will be the best story ever.

"Once upon a time, a group of people came to America from England to build a colony of their own…."

 **I just binged watched The Haunting of Hill House on Netflix and I can honestly see Shelby and Matt watching it for research purposes while Taylor forces Edward to have a tea party not five feet away. They wouldn't even notice. They're as observant as Harry freaking Potter.**


	11. Lost

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me right now." Taylor looks up sharply at the curse word, gray eyes wide in surprise since her daddy's never said the _F Word_ before. "Baby, I want you to go straight inside and up to your room. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." She gets out of the car, shouldering her backpack and sending Flora a curious look as she heads into the house. Aunt Shelby had explained that Flora might not be coming back for a while, but it's only been three days and isn't she supposed to be in school tomorrow?

"Keep going, Tay. I know you've got some sight words to practice." She ducks her head with a scowl and marches up the stairs as her daddy begins to speak in his louder-than-normal lawyer voice. She usually only hears it when she refuses to pick up her toys, so Lee must have forgotten to do her chores or something.

She flops onto her bed and holds out a hand, smiling when Eve curls around her wrist like the thick bangles her mommy used to wear. Still content, if a little bored, Taylor pulls out her list of sight words and begins sounding them out, tongue tripping over some of them before she remembers what word the letters form.

She's just about to start on been—pronounced like Ben instead of bean, her teacher made that very clear—when Lee comes flying inside.

"I'm doing my homework," Taylor complains. "Tell Daddy not to get his undies in a bunch."

"Have you seen Flora?"

"Not since I came inside. Did Daddy yell at you because you don't clean up your messes? Cause I can teach you how to tune him out." But Lee isn't paying any attention, turning and storming back out onto the landing like it's personally offended her. "Well, that's just rude."

"Flora! Flora, baby, where are you?" Taylor sets her list to the side and slides off the bed, coming out of her room to tug on the hem of Lee's jacket. "Taylor, I'm a little busy right now." As if to prove her point, she heads for the stairs and leaves Taylor struggling to catch up.

"Wait! What's going on?"

"Flora!"

"Alright," Nico says, holding up a hand to get Lee to stop running around the house. "She's obviously not in here, so we'll have to split up and search outside. We'll each go in one direction and we're going to keep our cell phones on us at all times in case someone gets lost or we find Flora. Does that sound good to everyone?"

"No," Taylor says, stamping her foot," cause I don't know what's going on!" Nico sighs and rests his hand on Taylor's head, mussing the French braid that Shelby did for her that morning.

"Flora's playing hide and seek outside and forgot to tell us about it. I want you to stay right here in case she comes back. Matt, you got a landline?" Mattie nods and dashes into the living room, coming back a moment later with a cordless phone that he presses into Taylor's hand. "You know my number, right?"

"Yep."

"Let me hear it."

"Your phone number 213-555-0805 and I'm only supposed to call it in emergencies. Is Flora coming home an emergency?"

"It is today, pumpkin. No matter what, don't leave this house."

"Okay, Daddy."

The adults file out of the house and begin to run as soon as the door is shut behind them, Taylor watching out a window until the woods seem to swallow them up. She's pretty sure Flora isn't playing hide and seek; a little game wouldn't make grown ups freak out like this. Flora probably went into the woods with Priscilla to play and Taylor's not entirely sure if the older girl will ever come back.

Taylor moves into the living room, dropping down onto the couch and watching the clock. It seems to tick by slowly, dragging on for two hours before Shelby's racing inside and gathering Taylor up in her arms.

"Thank goodness you're alright," she mumbles into Taylor's hair.

"Course I am, Aunt Shel. I stay in the house like I'm supposed to." She wriggles her way free and studies her aunt, taking in the colorless cheeks and bite-chapped lips. "What happened? Is Flora okay?"

"I…." She trails off, breathless like she's been running. "I'm sure she's fine." She nods as though she's trying to convince herself more than Taylor, sniffling and wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. Something must be really wrong out there if Shel isn't using a tissue. "The police are going to be here soon and I don't want you getting in their way. They're gonna help us find Flora."

"Did somebody take her?" Shelby hesitates, liking saying it out loud makes it true. It answers Taylor's question better than anything and her lips twist to the side as she tries to think of where Priscilla might have taken Flora. "Maybe I can help."

"You'll be a big help by just staying here and not leaving the house. You're always saying you're a big girl and this will help prove it. Okay?"

"Fine, but I won't be happy about it."

"That's because you're a drama queen, honey. Don't worry, that little trait is genetic."

"So what am I supposed to do until you guys get back?"

"Eat junk food and watch Netflix for now. Nothing over a PG-13 rating and nothing that will give you nightmares. Do you remember how to get to it through the DVD player?"

"I'm the one that taught you."

"Alright, smarty pants. I'll go unlock the snack cabinet and you pull up Monsters Inc." Taylor does as she's told, settling in for a long night without adult supervision. It's not actually something she looks forward to, she thrives on constant attention and macaroni.

Shel takes longer in the kitchen than necessary and, even over the sound of Mike coaching Sully, Taylor can hear the quiet sobbing. Shelby's always been more emotional than Monica, always the one to cry during those commercials of the starving children in Africa or the dogs in the pound, but Taylor doesn't like hearing it. She slouches further down on the couch and turns the volume up until the crying is drowned out, knowing her aunt wants to be left alone.

When Shelby comes back into the living room, her eyes are red and there's tracks on her cheeks, but she's smiling and setting down a bowl of leftover spaghetti.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours to check on you."

"Okay, Aunt Shel."

"I'm going to lock the door behind me and you only open it if it's one of us. Got it?" Taylor nods, acutely aware of the ghost standing just behind her aunt, tall and thin and twitching spasmodically. She's Asian, Taylor thinks, maybe a teenager and definitely dead since her aunt isn't freaking the heck out about a stranger being in the house. "What's so interesting?" She turns and looks at where Taylor's watching, not even noticing the dead teen that crawls up the wall like a spider.

"I just thought I saw a bug, is all. I'll see you in two hours." Shelby studies her for a moment longer before pressing a kiss to her forehead and sweeping out of the room. Taylor's gaze returns to the dead girl, lips pulled down into a frown. "You stay up there and I'll stay down here and we'll both be peachy."

"She doesn't fully understand you," Edward says, stepping out of the shadows in the hallway. "She and her family moved here from Taiwan and were still in the process of learning fluent English when they were slaughtered."

"Ouch."

"Mmm, yes. I suppose it did hurt." He sits next to her, back straight and face powder perfectly intact. He's pretty and his brows have been carefully plucked, rouge coloring his lips a rosy pink. "Why, exactly, are you here by yourself with no one but ghosts for company?"

"Priscilla took Flora with her into the woods."

"To the place where the Butcher can't reach them." Taylor glances over at the not-question, fingers twitching over the skirt of her dress. It's black and she's got a pink sweater pulled over the top of it, making sure she stayed warm and cute when she was at school. "There's an area of the woods where only certain ghosts are allowed, only the innocents and victims. That's where Priscilla has taken her."

"She didn't take me."

"Because you have a different form of protection."

"The same form that sent me Eve?" Edward's lip curls in distaste at the mention of the adder currently snuggled up in the pouch of Taylor's sweater.

"Yes." She nods, remembering the vague outline of the little boy in the woods, the childish voice that whispered in her ear the night Eve showed up. He's her cousin, but that's about all she knows for sure.

"Did you have any kids before you died?"

"Do you enjoy changing the subject?" Taylor doesn't answer, raising a brow in response until he sighs and relaxes back against the cushions. "I had one child, a boy named Edmund." She stays quiet and Edward rolls his eyes. "He was two years old when I moved away from him and his mother, I couldn't stand his racket. I wasn't nearly so loud as a child."

"Kids are loud, dude. Mommy says you shouldn't have them if you can't handle being puked on at three in the morning when you're going on two hours of sleep." It's Edward's turn to arch his brow and she shrugs. "My aunt was fussy and my mommy didn't like her until she was five."

"Well, I was hoping for a little girl anyway. Sons were important back then because girls couldn't inherit, but little girls were…. They were quiet and they always seemed to look at their parents with such adoration. Little girls knew that all their power resided in being quiet and obedient."

"That's dumb."

"Yes," he says, huffing out a laugh. "It's also how it was back then."

"What would you have named your daughter? If you had one, I mean."

"Philippa, I think. Phillipa Claire, Pippa for short."

"If I ever have a kid, I want to name her Esmeralda. She'd be strong like the girl from Hunchback of Notre Dame, and she wouldn't take attitude from anybody."

"Is that one of those movie things you were trying to explain yesterday? The one with the villain that loses and gets killed after a fall?" Taylor sits there in silence for a minute, trying to figure out if he's talking about Hunchback or Lion King. It applies to them both, Scar and Frollo both end up falling at the end.

"Probably. Let's watch it so you can understand why Esmeralda's the best." She switches off of Netflix and slides to her feet, grabbing the well-worn movie case off a low shelf and sliding the tape into the VCR. She has an entire Disney collection on VHS that was passed down to her from both of her parents, taking up the entire lower shelf of the wide bookcase next to the TV.

"Dear God, television really is an amazing invention."

"Wait till you hear about cell phones, big guy."

* * *

Taylor spends most of the next three days by herself in the house, watching the ghosts get more restless as October approaches. Edward seems glued to her side during the entire time, dozing through the reruns of Hocus Pocus and grumbling his way through endless games of Candyland.

It's the afternoon of day four when her daddy shows back up and drops into the armchair, exhausted and scratched from pushing past tree branches. He can barely keep his eyes open, but they rest for just a second on where Edward is brushing Taylor's hair.

"Thank you," he mumbles," for taking care of my daughter while I've been out searching." Edward inclines his head in a slow nod, and Nico's eyelids slide closed before snores come rumbling out. Her daddy stays like that for the rest of the day, Taylor covering him up with her Tinkerbelle blanket and taking off his shoes.

The others come and go, Matt hanging around long enough to make sure that Taylor eats some oatmeal before he disappears back into the woods. She waits for another two hours before giving up on a kiss goodnight before slipping upstairs and into her bedroom. Eve is curled up on her nightstand, the tail of a mouse sticking out from its mouth.

She doesn't bother her pet, just gets cozy in her bed and lets her eyes drift closed. They'll find Flora eventually, not even the dead can hide her forever. So Taylor relaxes into the soft mattress and ignores the sounds that start up around nine that night when the others finally come back, the screaming and slamming doors.

As Mason is being killed, Taylor dreams of blood red skies and crows circling overhead.


	12. Séance

**2015**

"I liked Cricket," Taylor says. "He was kind of like me in his own way, stronger and yet weaker at the same time. I have different talents."

"Tell me about when you first met him."

"Me and Daddy were arguing about whether or not my Ariel dress is proper daytime attire. It's pink, the one she wears when she has dinner with Eric for the first time, so obviously I should be able to wear it to breakfast." She sends her daddy a dry look and Nico rolls his eyes. It's not the first time they've had that particular argument.

"You have play clothes for a reason," Nico reminds her.

"Well, I haven't been invited to eat sandwiches with a Prince yet, so I don't see the harm." She crosses her arms over her chest, four feet and six inches of pure defiance. " _Anyway_ , I met Cricket and he knew things that no one else did. He knew about Priscilla and he knew about séances and he learned about the Butcher. Cricket knew a lot."

"And what happened to him," Sidney asks, jotting a few notes down in the little binder he keeps on his knee. It's a dark blue that matches the sweater he has on today, the leather spine creaks whenever he opens it. "Everyone's been a little vague about that." Taylor finally glances away from the binder, blinking a couple of times as she thinks over her answer.

"He thought saying _Croatoan_ would help him, but the Butcher got him anyway."

 **2014**

It's day number five and Nico's attempting to get his daughter to put on something other than her Princess dress when her entire frame goes rigid, head tilted like she's listening to something. "What is it, baby?" She's quiet for a bit longer, brows scrunched up as she turns to look at the door.

"There's a cricket in the house, Daddy."

"What?"

"I don't know." She moves with the glittery dress still clutched in her fist, Nico following at her side and pausing halfway down the stairs when he notices a man in a black suit standing at the base. He's short, maybe a couple feet taller than Taylor, and dressed completely in black which makes his white hair stand out all the more.

"And you must be Taylor," the man says, smiling when he focuses his attention on the little girl. She goes down a couple of steps, one below Nico, and pauses again. She's concentrating hard, like when she's learning a new word for the first time, but then her features smooth out like glass.

"You're like me."

"Not quite, little one, but close. You're something…. Well, you're definitely something."

"You're here to help find Flora." He nods, utterly fascinated and excited about the knowledge Taylor shouldn't have. Taylor continues down the stairs and Nico hurries after her, wanting to stick close because, no matter how smart or well-informed she is, she's still only six. "You were called by…." She trails off, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "By one of the people that used to live here."

"Indeed, Princess." Taylor preens under the attention, dropping the Ariel dress to the floor. "Do you think you can help me out here? Tell your aunt over there that I'm not the bad guy?" And now her nose is scrunching up as she glances over to where the other three are standing in the living room.

"Lee isn't my aunt. She's just my uncle's sister."

"Who the hell are you," Lee demands, taking a threatening step forward. The old man doesn't back down, just keeps his smile in place.

"I apologize, I always assume my reputation arrives before I do. Sort of like Dracula without the fangs and straight romance." He chuckles at his own joke as he sets his case and jacket down on the built-in china cabinet, but the others don't stop their accusatory glaring. "My name is Cricket Marlowe." _There's a cricket in the house, Daddy_. "Like Taylor said, I'm here to help you find your little angel."

"I think we'll let the FBI handle it actually," Matt states, actually firm. He's never been a timid man by any means, but he's also polite and his spine is made of modeling clay rather than steel.

"Let them help by all means but let me lend you some assistance where I can. If you don't believe me, then you can ask Special Agent Greenfield. I worked with him about five years ago now on a child abduction in Utah, we found the little boy alive and well."

"Nico, you wanna—"

"Already on it," Nico says, phone out and Safari pulled up. Just a random search of his name pulls up several stories of a sweet man that's helped find children all over the country. It almost looks faked, but the stories are typed up by respected journalists and there's a photo on the FBI's website of him and the southern regional director. "He appears to be legit."

"Of course I am," Cricket sniffs, the Louisiana drawl more noticeable than ever. Nico is intimately familiar with the accent, remembers his ghost and they way she'd tell him stories in the sweltering Louisiana heat. That had been back when he was a kid, hellbent on exploring every inch of his grandparents' house in Fort Polk.

"Then give us an example of your little gift." Nico crosses his arms over his chest, fully expecting Cricket to fail.

"That book of poetry you think is missing is actually back in Taylor's part of the attic. She likes to look through it when it's too cold to go outside." Cricket's gaze softens when it lands on Taylor, and there's a hint of sorrow that makes something curdle in Nico's gut. "She knows the dead here intimately."

"They're nice," Taylor grumbles, defensive. "Some of them are, anyway."

"Yes, I'm sure they have their moments. When did you first learn of your gift, honey?"

"When I was three."

"I was nine and I had to inform my nana that her keys were in the bottom of her trash can under a take-out container of grits."

Cricket begins to move after that, wandering through the open doorways, tapping his walking stick against the floor every now and then. It's a simple thing, sturdy with a silver frog on the top. He slowly makes his way through a circle and then up the stairs, the others compelled to follow him. He comes to a dead stop on the second floor, smack dab between the two crawlspaces with his cane raised just an inch off the floor. He looks ready to bang it again, but something seems to catch his attention and has him spinning on tip-toe to face them.

"Did you hear that," he asks.

"Yes," Taylor nods, little hand finding its way into one of Nico's. He turns his head to look at the crawlspace door near Taylor's room in the same instant that the little girl does. It's eerie, seeing her be so in sync with a stranger, but there's something _other_ about Cricket, something similar to the feeling Nico got when he held Taylor for the very first time.

"She was…. Hiding in here." He doesn't wait for a confirmation this time, crossing the landing and slowly opening the door. Inside the crawlspace is a little white bonnet, worn with age and filthy. It's almost yellow now, frayed at the edges. Cricket picks it up and waits, looking sick and relieved all at once. "Flora is not dead."

"She's with—"

"Priscilla," Taylor and Cricket say together. Lee goes rigid next to Matt, shaking her head in disbelief.

"But Priscilla isn't real," she argues, frustrated and scared. "She's just a friend that Flora made up to pass the time here since Taylor wouldn't play with her." Taylor rolls her eyes so hard that Nico's surprised when she doesn't pull something, obviously offended at Lee's accusation.

"No, Priscilla is very real," Cricket insists, quiet. He's staring into space, like he's hearing something no one else can. But that's not quite right because Taylor is doing the same thing, tuned into a different wavelength than everyone else. Nico has a feeling the pair have totally different sources when it comes to this; Cricket's sends him messages about missing children and Taylor's sends her venomous snakes that aren't even native to North Carolina. "She's nine years old and loves making corn husk dolls. She was killed in the late 1500's."

"Corn husk dolls," Nico repeats, remembering the little dolls strung up along the banisters and balusters. It had felt like a warning back then, a hissing voice telling them to keep out, but maybe it was a little girl wanting to show off her talent.

"I'd like permission to do a séance tonight. Perhaps this little girl will feel up to telling us where she's hidden Flora."

"Absolutely not," Matts says in the same instance that Shelby gives a pleading," Anything to help find her." The couple has a staring match and an entire conversation just with a few eyebrow maneuvers so complicated that they should be part of the fucking Olympics, then Matt is letting out a gusty sigh and nodding his head. Flora is the priority here, and he'll do anything to find his niece.

"Good, I'll be back around seven when it's nice and dark. They seem livelier then."

The rest of the day passes almost in a blur, Nico barely noticing the fact that Taylor's changed into her pink Princess dress complete with bright red wig and a tiny stuffed fish she carts around under her arm. She feeds the thing and Nico wishes Monica could be here to see their daughter being so goddamn adorable.

By the time seven o'clock rolls around, Lee is full of nervous energy and Nico feels like his skin is too tight over his bones. _Like butter scraped over too much bread_. He almost laughs when he remembers that quote but laughing is inappropriate when there's a child missing and a kooky psychic setting up in the living room. They're basically the Addams Family right now, all that's missing is a butler and severed hand.

"I'm ready," Cricket says, pulling Nico out of his daydreams.

All the furniture apart from six chairs and a small end table has been pushed against the walls, candles flickering along the floor; a short line of them running straight out from two of the chairs while the others form semicircles in the even spaces between the seats. The adults and Taylor all claim a chair while Cricket pulls out a lighter and lights a bundle of sage. _Gotta get rid of that bad juju_.

"Spirits of the north, south, east west," Cricket implores, making the sign of the cross with the sage. "Father Sky, Mother Earth, hear our call." He sets the sage down and picks up a sewing pin, pricking his finger and letting a fat drop of blood fall into the hot wax of a pillar candle before sitting down. "Gods of this earth and the next, show us what is hidden."

"I know," Taylor is whispering, peering at the floor next to her like she sees something. "Bad things, she's coming. I know she is, don't be so pushy." Cricket doesn't seem to notice or doesn't care either way. He keeps talking, but Nico focuses on the way Taylor is too straight in her seat, mouth set in a firm line that's too grim for someone her age. "I've got Eve, she'll keep me safe." The snake is in her lap, its head butting against her hand whenever Taylor stops trailing her fingers along its back. Nico's attention gets drawn back to the others when the candle's light goes out with a faint hiss of air, gray smoke curling up from the wick.

"Join hands," Cricket snaps. "Quickly now, this woman isn't the type to play around." It takes some gentle nudging, but then Taylor's holding Lee and Nico's hands. "Who are you?" This question isn't addressed to the group, it's aimed at the empty space where Taylor's eyes are glued. "Why have you taken that child?"

"It's the bad lady."

"Show your face, dark woman. Are you so much of a coward that you can steal one child and break another's arm, but not show yourself to an adult? Let me see you!" He turns suddenly in the same instant that Taylor's attention goes towards a dark corner of the room over Cricket's shoulder. Cricket picks up a laminated card from the table, holding it up like a shield.

"Won't work, she's getting too strong."

"This is the prayer card of Saint John Gualbert. He's the saint of mercy, the patron saint of those who work and live in the forest. I ask him to surround us with his white light. You can do us no harm." Nico's not the only one to jerk in surprise when the pillar candle is cut right in two, the halves falling open on the table. "She has a cleaver and she's called the Butcher."

"She's going to kill us all." The certainty, the _knowing_ , in his daughter's eyes makes Nico feel sick, like the world's worst hangover accompanied by the after effects of a panic attack. Her voice is flat, not quite her own, and he knows that she's right. "She was killed by the witch in the woods after cursing her people."

"Why do you haunt this place, Butcher?" There's a moment of quiet where Taylor and Cricket track some unseen _thing_ around the room. "Where is the child? Where's Flora?"

"I _told_ you it was Priscilla, Mattie. _I told you_."

"This land belongs to the living and you are not welcome here. You're the trespasser!" The windows blow out like someone's thrown a rock, shattering one at a time in rapid succession that has Nico pulling Taylor onto his lap on instinct. "Croatoan! Croatoan!" Taylor glances up in the ensuing chaos, leveling a calm stare at the psychic that has him freezing in place.

"That word isn't going to save you when the moon is red."


	13. The First Quarter Moon

Taylor wakes with a jerk and a scream, sitting bolt upright in her bed with her teddy clutched to her chest and tears wet on her cheeks. "She's got Mattie! She-she's got him!" Sobs make her throat hurt, jerking her shoulders until a comforting hand presses against her back.

"It's alright, little one," Edward murmurs.

"No, the witch of the wood—!"

"Will do your uncle no harm now that she's had a taste of him." Taylor looks up at the ghost, grateful that his eyes are brown instead of pits in his face. "They've struck up a bargain of sorts, a few days of protection for a night of entertainment." Her gasping breaths begin to slow and she can feel sleep tugging at her, drawing her back down until her cheek is resting on her pillow.

"What about the rest of us? How will we be protected?"

"Worry not, Taylor. I'll watch over you tonight." And that's all she really needs, to know that she has someone she can trust that will guard her while she sleeps. Like an angel, dressed in silk clothes with a funny wig.

When Taylor wakes up the next morning, Lee is gone and a stranger is sitting in her place at the kitchen table. She glares up at him past a veil of her hair, chomping angrily at her cereal until he gets the hint to move. She takes the seat with a prim little sniff, shoveling another spoonful of Apple Jacks into her mouth.

"Who're you," she asks, milk dribbling down her chin.

"Elias Cunningham."

"Crazy dude from that movie in the basement, right? I thought he was fuzzier." She gestures at the neatly trimmed beard the guy's sporting, no longer looking like he's been living in the wild.

"Yes, that wasn't the best time period for me."

"You're weird."

"Yeah, I know." He frowns wandering into the living room where the others are sitting. Taylor follows after a moment, tired of being left out of conversations just because she's little. She plops down on the floor in front of the coffee table, still chomping away as Shelby looks up.

"Earlier, when you got that pig man to leave us alone, you shouted Croatoan," she says, slow, like she's still figuring out what needs to come out and what needs to stay in her head. "Cricket said it too when the Butcher was blowing out our windows. What does it mean?"

"It's a word of dark power and blood magic." Elias settles down on the couch near Shelby, a glass of booze in his hand. It can be used to bind people or banish them, whichever way you wanna use it."

"The Butcher used it as a binding spell," Taylor says, swirling her spoon through her milk. "That's why all those people are here."

"You've been doing research."

"I can't even Google Roanoke because I don't know how to spell it, but I _do_ know how to get grown ups to tell me stories. They might be dead, but I'm still really adorable." She shrugs, having accepted that as fact a long time ago. With her puppy eyes and pouty lip, she can get just about anything. "How'd you survive when everyone else bit the dirt?"

"I slept in the root cellar for a while and got a little apartment when I was able to. If I hadn't lost my tenure at BU none of you would have been able to move in here." He knocks his drink back and rises to get more, still talking. "I did extensive research before I moved in, mostly about those nurses—"

"They wanna gut me like a fish."

"—and nobody, _not one person_ , has ever been able to walk away from this place alive before me. The owners either die or go missing somewhere around October. I was lucky to get out at the tail end of September before things got really fucked up. Actually, I have proof hidden in the basement. C'mon."

"Are we really gonna believe that nutjob," Matt asks, gesturing with his hand in the direction Elias has gone in.

"We don't have much of a choice," Nico grumbles, resigned now. "I did my own research and couldn't find anything. If he has proof of other residents, then I say we give the guy a chance. If he turns out to be completely bonkers, then you and I can haul him to the cops ourselves." Taylor begins to sneak away as her daddy talks, Shelby hiding a smile behind her hand.

"Fine, but I think Taylor should stay up here."

"That's a good— She's already at the basement door." She throws them a cheeky smile over her shoulder and then races down the steps after the creepy guy, jumping down to the cement floor from the bottom step. Elias glances up from where he's shoving a table out of the way, raising his brows.

"I wanna see your secret hiding place and my daddy wasn't going to let me," she explains.

"So you snuck down here before he noticed," Elias asks, and his brows creep just a little further up his forehead.

"Yup." There's the sound of footsteps and then the other three are downstairs, Nico picking Taylor up and depositing her on a low shelf next to a battered suitcase. Elias barely notices them, prying open a fake panel in the wood siding to reveal a dark hole that would stop at Taylor's chest. He pulls out a thick folder of documents, setting them on the leather case on Taylor's right.

"Hey, no touching." Matt's hand snaps away from the papers so fast that he might have been burned. "That's a solid decade of my life right there, it covers all the paranormal activity on the entire property that the house sits on. I'm gonna write a book one day, if my writer's block ever takes a nosedive off a cliff."

"No you won't." Taylor isn't sure how, but she _knows_. The same way she knows that everyone in this room, maybe even herself, won't make it to see 2018. Elias glowers over at her before bending down to grab two small, thick journals and gathering up the folder, resting it all protectively against his chest.

"Apart from myself, one of the most recent family to live here was the Chen family. They immigrated here from Taiwan in 1973 and wanted the American Dream that they saw on television. They got American names, ate TV dinners, the whole shebang." He moves further into the room with the others following, dropping down into an old rocking chair. "Of course, no one was very welcoming to immigrants back then, kind of like how they are now, so they never learned about everything that happened in the house."

"The butcher killed them on the first night of the Blood Moon, didn't she?"

"Yes. That's why I'm lending these to you all. I need to know that at least one family had a fighting chance in this place." He hands the folder off to Shelby and she flips through it slowly, shaking her head in disbelief.

"These go back to the 1700s," she murmurs, smoothing down the pages with her hand.

"Technically, everything started in the late 1500s, but nothing was documented until this house was finished in 1792."

"Edward," Taylor says, nodding. She rubs her hand over where his name is written on her cast, elegant and ostentatious over her elbow. "He was going to live here with only his servants for the rest of his life, far away from society." It started off like a fairy tale and it ended like a Rob Zombie Halloween special.

"That's right." He opens another folder and Matt's eyes go wide, jabbing his finger against a black and white newspaper photo of two women in nurse uniforms. Taylor flinches away from the picture, vividly remembering the night they had drug her out of bed and threatened to cut her wide open.

"I dreamt about them one night," Matt says, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I dreamed that they shot an old lady in my dining room."

"The Jane sisters were total psychopaths. They could be ranked among the worst or the worst, but even they were terrified by the ghosts in this place. They told me how the haunting began for them, how they were terrorized for an entire month until Miranda was torn apart and Bridget was beheaded. There were others, too; three hunters spent a night here and turned their guns on each other."

"Always during the Blood Moon," Taylor adds.

"Yes, the same lunar cycle in October. The killing starts on the first quarter moon and ends on the actual Blood Moon. Any other time, the spirits can only scare you, but they can skin you alive if that's what they feel like doing during those six days. The first quarter moon is tonight, so we need to head out before it gets dark.

"Nope," Matt says firmly. "I can't leave without my niece." Elias rolls his eyes, gathering up his research and practically sprinting upstairs, making a beeline for the front door.

"I saw that on the news, and you have my condolences, but she's as good as dead if the Butcher has her."

"It's not the Butcher," Shelby argues. "It's a little girl named Priscilla!" Elias stops just four feet from the door, turning around to look at the others. Taylor is resting on her daddy's hip, his strong arms keeping her up without much problem.

"Did you say Priscilla?" Matt nods, desperation bleeding into his gaze. "Come on, I think I know where's she's hiding Flora." He's off like a shot and Taylor's wiggling to go after him, but her daddy walks into the living room and drops her down on the couch.

"You're staying here," he says in his no-nonsense tone. Lawyer Voice, no point in arguing. "I'm gonna lock that door behind me and if anyone you don't know comes in here, then I want you to throw Eve at them and run."

"Yes, sir," she mumbles, kicking the arm of the couch.

"Even if…. Even if they're dead, it should distract them long enough for you to hide yourself in my car." Taylor nods sullenly, eyes on the ceiling where Amy Chen is perched. She's a year older than Taylor, dark hair done up in pigtails and sweater torn near the shoulder. "What are you looking at?"

"One of the Chens. They like to hang out in here." Nico's slow to look up, reluctantly following where Taylor's gaze had been focused until he's letting out a sharp breath. He can see her, can see the way sunlight makes her skull too vivid through her skin, her hands curled up like claws.

"Will she hurt us?"

"I don't know, Daddy." And she doesn't know, there's not that feeling like a string pulled taunt in her chest, fraying or whole or just _broken_. Death is easier to guess than just being hurt, it's more final, clearer in her mind.

They sit on the couch for two hours after that, holding each other and watching Amy as she watches them. Edward is nowhere to be found, probably brooding in the basement since he doesn't trust Nico to leave him alone. Taylor doesn't either most of the time, she's an acquired taste, but she also spends most of their time together listening to him prattle on about art. All she took away from that is that Michelangelo is a gay Ninja Turtle.

It's the sound of tires on gravel that draws them out of their own heads, Nico rising from the couch and looking out a window before running his fingers through his dark hair. It's almost black and Monica used to love playing with it at nighttime.

"It's Cricket."

"What's he want," Taylor asks, sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the couch.

"Probably more money." They wait in silence for Cricket to come inside, automatically finding them without even having to wonder. He's psychic, always has a voice whispering in his ear, so it doesn't surprise Taylor when he comes in with sweat shining on his brow. He looks so pale, so world-worn and haggard and it's easy for Taylor to peek at his thoughts.

 _Elias is dying and Cricket's next_.


	14. In the Dark

Cricket leaves when it gets dark out, seeking out answers from the spirits about how to get everyone out alive. It's a hopeless cause and all Taylor wants to do is curl up in the basement with Monica's book of poetry and Edward. But she has more important things to do the next morning than mope around. She's getting her cast off.

She's sent to bed a ten when they're pretty sure Cricket isn't going to come back, and she dreams of a dead teenager and a little boy that calls her mommy.

Taylor actually sleeps in the next morning, barely opening her eyes when her daddy starts to get her dressed for the day. She doesn't even insist on wearing her wellies, that's how tired she is. She just curls into her daddy's warmth as he carries her downstairs and to the car so they can make her appointment on time.

The morning is a bit of a blur for her; she remembers the whirring sound of the saw as her cast is removed and tucked into a sack for her to hang on to, remembers the sucker the doctor gave her for being so good, but nothing really clears up until they're back at the house two hours later.

They're getting out of their car right as Cricket is getting into the backseat of a new one, taking off before Nico can say anything.

"Was that an Uber," he asks, scratching at his chin.

"I guess being psychic doesn't mean you can afford car payments." She yawns and shuffles into the house and waves to her aunt and uncle before collapsing face-first on the couch, snoring before her head hits the throw pillow.

When she wakes up again, there's drool on her chin and it's dark out. She's also smooshed between Shelby and the couch cushions. Across from her, curled up like a housecat in the armchair, her daddy is most of the way through the second Lord of the rings movie and quoting along with Sam. That last bit is unsurprising since he's a closeted dork.

"When the sun shines," he whispers," it will shine out the clearer."

"I like that quote," Taylor says, the words muffled by a yawn. "I'm getting a tattoo when I'm bigger and that's what it's gonna say." Nico gives her an indulgent smile, holding out his hand in invitation. She shakes her head, rubbing her cheek against Shel's arm where it's cradling her head.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, sleeping beauty." Shelby lets out a low moan and rubs the heel of her palm against her eye before sitting up slowly. "Seems like we all had a nice little nap."

"Where's Matt," she asks, squinting as she looks around.

"No idea. He was gone when I woke up. Do you know where he might be, Tay?" She shakes her head and sits up, brushing her hair off her face. She's not a mind-reader, she can only get a vague idea of what someone might be thinking when their emotions are high. It's been growing fuzzier the older she gets.

"Matt? Matt, are you in here?" Taylor gets off the couch and heads for the kitchen, wanting a drink, but pauses halfway there when she notices the front door standing wide open. "Taylor, do you see him?"

She shakes her head. "Nope." Shelby and Nico come to stand next to her, Nico resting a protective hand on her shoulder. Matt's not out there, but the colony is and they're carrying torches and pitchforks like in some old horror movie. "They got Flora."

" _Matt!"_

"Shelby!" Matt comes running around the side of the house, shirt unbuttoned and glasses crooked on his face. "Shel! Taylor!" He tries to pull Shelby in the house from where she'd stepped out on the porch, but she pushes at his arm and points.

"They have her, Matt. They've got Flora." Matt turns, seeming to notice the mob for the first time. He holds his hands up, palms out, in a pleading gesture of peace.

"Please, just let us have Flora and we'll go. Alright? We'll go away and make sure no one else will ever come out here." Thomasin raises her cleaver and holds it to Flora's throat, the other girl letting out a squeal of fear. Nico picks Taylor up and turns her away, hand on the back of her head to keep her face buried in his neck.

"The time for bartering is over," the Butcher states. "Now is time for blood to consecrate the land." Taylor covers her ears as the others scream and then her daddy's moving, the front door slamming shut and tears hot on Taylor's cheeks as they start up the stairs.

"Our room! Nico, get in our room!" There's a sharp left on the landing, Taylor doing her best to bite down on her sobs as she's settled on Mattie's bed. "Flora, oh honey, are you okay? Did she hurt you?" Flora's quiet, not even crying as Taylor struggles to make air stay in her lungs.

"The man," Flora chokes out, voice shaky.

"What man, sweetheart?"

"Th-the man, they…. The man."

"Cricket," Taylor whimpers, covering her ears and ducking under the covers. The monsters can't get her if she's under the covers, right? The bad things will look right over her and not even know where she's hiding. Covers protect you, they keep you safe. She keeps her eyes screwed shut, flinching whenever someone tries to touch her.

 _Calm down._ The words are whispered in her ear, but they don't belong to anyone in North Carolina. _Eve will keep you safe_. As if summoned, the adder is suddenly next to her beneath the covers, hissing quietly and curling loosely over Taylor's neck like a scarf. She begins to calm after that, coming out from under the heavy blanket.

"Call the cops," Nico demands. "They can't deny that shit's going down when they pull up and see _that!_ " Shelby fumbles with he phone until Matt takes it, quickly dialing the number and pressing the phone to his ear.

"I'm calling from the house on Sappony Road," he says into the speaker. "We need help immediately. There's a mob outside, they're trying to kill us." There's a brief pause and then Mattie's snarling down the line. "Just send the goddamn cops!" He throws the phone on the nightstand, pacing away from the window before dropping down next to Flora, wrapping an arm around her.

"Where the hell did the snake come from? Tay, you said you had her in your room."

"I did," she murmurs, touch featherlight as she passes her fingers along Eve's scales. "She's gonna protect me."

"Deliver yourselves unto me," the Butcher calls," and I shall grant you a merciful death."

"Alright," Matt sighs, standing up. "Shelby, take my keys and make a beeline for the truck. You can carry one of the girls, Nico can take the other, and I'll lead that group of psychopaths away from here." Nico and Shelby talk over each other as they argue against Matt's idea, but Flora and Taylor lock gazes.

"They won't let us go," Flora whispers.

"I know," Taylor says back, acutely aware of her daddy standing not three feet away. They're not focused on the girls, though, don't even seem to realize that Flora has inside knowledge of how their plan will go horribly wrong.

"The ghosts in the house will try to stop us." Matt actually does hear that, turning to look at Flora with wide eyes. "Maybe not Edward since he hates everyone, but definitely the others. Priscilla said that they have to obey the Butcher or they get hurt."

"Baby, look at me," Matts says, kneeling to her level. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again. Not ever." Her gaze darts away, landing on Eve. Taylor reaches up a possessive hand to rest on the snake's tail, silently daring the other girl to make a move. "Come on, we need to get moving."

"They're gonna get us."

"I won't let them," Shelby promises, hoisting Flora up on her hip. "Hold on as tight as you can." Flora nods and wraps her arms around Shelby's neck. Nico bends at the knees, letting Taylor climb onto his back. This used to be fun for her, piggyback rides are the best, but now all she feels is dread.

"The stairs are clear," Matt says, just loud enough to be heard in the bedroom.

"No they're not," Taylor argues, pointing at where Grace Chen is clinging to the ceiling above one of the curves. "Let me down. I can get us to the basement."

"What? No, we're going to the front door."

"Uncle Matt, this is gonna hurt your heart, but the ghosts just set your truck on fire." His eyes widen behind his glasses and he sprints to the window on the landing, letting out a low whine. "And your fancy sportscar, Daddy." She wriggles and struggles until Nico is forced to set her down or drop her, then sprints over to the stairs to make eye contact with the ghost.

Grace is older, a teenager and still filled to the brim with rebellion against everything, but she's also a sucker for tradition. Sometimes, like now, that tradition means terrorizing an innocent family and using their bones for decorations in the backyard. Taylor's stubborn too, and she tilts her chin up and eyes the ghost with all the defiance she possesses.

"Let us pass." The ghost doesn't move, doesn't even twitch. That's fine, Taylor can feel darkness crawling over her skin like ice water, making something inside her flare to life and her vision sharpen to the point of seeing individual grains in the wooden arches overhead. "Let us pass or I'll use what's left of your soul as a necklace." The words come out growled, unfamiliar and far too deep for her vocal chords. Around her throat, Eve bares fangs dripping with venom. Grace scuttles away like a spider, clearing the staircase for the others to go down.

"What the fuck was that?" She looks at Shelby over her shoulder, the fear making that _thing_ writhing in her chest calm, all the little threads going still when she sees her family whole. "How did you do that?"

"My cousin helped me." She shrugs and her vision dims, back to normal in the near pitch black landing. The only light they have is streaming in through the window from the full moon, casting everything in an eerie red glow. "We need to get to the basement before the others come after us."

That seems all the motivation they need, Nico scooping Taylor back up onto his back before leading the way downstairs. Matt slams the basement door behind him, sliding the bolt in place for a little extra security.

"Edward," Taylor shouts. "Edward, are you down here?"

"I'm right here," he answers. "There's no need for shouting, little one." He comes out of the shadows, adjusting his silken frock coat over his shoulders and brushing the dirt off. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten our plan."

"Kinda hard to do that since you made me say it back to you three times everyday since last week." She wiggles again and Nico seems a little less hesitant to put her down this time. "We had some trouble with the Chens."

"Ah yes, her little spiders. They're a distasteful lot when the Butcher's in control of them." He heaves a sigh and gestures at the massive, gilded frame leaning against the wall on the left, the frame empty apart from some moldering canvas clinging to the bottom. "Matthew, if you could do me the favor of moving this, please."

"How do you two know each other," Matt asks, rigid next to Shelby.

"The little brat's been invading my privacy since day one. I've learned to talk over her when needs be." Taylor scoffs and shakes her head, scowling up at him. "Will you move the damn frame? There's a door behind it that can get you safely out of this foul place. If nothing else, I'll get some peace and quiet back."

"Don't be rude," Taylor scolds, wagging a finger at him. "I was great company and you know it." If nothing else, she learned how to fake interest as he talked on and on _and on_ about art and clothes and the proper way to apply rouge. Edward looks about ready to argue but cuts his attention to where Matt has shoved the frame aside.

"Careful with that, it costs more than your entire wardobe." Matt looks skeptically at the frame, the gold dimmed and faded over time to nothing more than grime-covered swirls. "Follow me." He ducks as he enters the tunnel and only tenses a little when Taylor slides one of her hands in his, the touch comforting.

"I can't see anything," Nico complains. Edward grabs one of the torches off the wall and holds it out, brows raised expectantly until Nico produces a match to light it. It's almost too bright after all the darkness, making Taylor squint until she's used to it. The tunnel beneath the house is like something out of a movie, hard-packed dirt with wooden frames to hold it all up.

They're quiet for the next twenty minutes, Taylor sticking close to Edward the further they go as she catches sight of insects writhing in the dirt walls, making them seem to pulse like a heart. The fresh air at the end of the tunnel is a blessing, so much easier to breathe than the dampness they left behind them.

"I'm cold," Flora says, no longer so timid.

"Cold is far better than the Butcher's flames, I assure you," Edward says, leading the way through the dense woods. They stop a couple of minutes later, still in the middle of the woods with nothing in sight but trees. "This is as far as I can go, I'm afraid. Keep following this path and it should lead you off of the property."

"Thank you, Mister Mott."

"My solitude will be thanks enough." He pries his hand free from Taylor's grasp and pats the top of her head. "Be safe, little one. There are worse things out here than the Butcher and her band of miscreants." Then he's gone, dissolved like fog when sunlight hits it. The torch is discarded on the path, burnt out with powder left over from Edward's hold.

They're alone in the night. In the dark.


	15. White People in Horror Movies

**2015**

"I don't remember much about that last night out there. I just…." Nico draws in a deep breath, brown eyes focused over Sidney's head. He's trying not get lost in his thoughts, to keep those bad things locked behind heavy doors and chains. "I only had one thought in my head through the whole thing."

"And what was that," Sidney asks, scribbling away in his notebook.

"No matter what happens to me, I have to keep those girls safe." Taylor lets out a soft sound, fingers curling protectively around the straps of her backpack. It's brand new with pink zebra stripes on the front and a three-eyed monster hanging from one of the zippers, bright blue and smiling.

"What about you, Taylor? Do you remember anything?"

"I remember everything," she answers. "My cousin saved us from one of the ghosts in the house and he saved us again in the woods. We'd be dead if it wasn't for him and Eve." She pats her bag for emphasis, then rubs it when she hears a faint hiss from inside. The snake seems to react to her emotions and Taylor misses the comforting presence around her left wrist.

"How'd it start?" Her daddy tunes back in, dropped back in the present where the hillbillies are far away and there aren't any ghosts waiting to slaughter them. No boogeymen hiding around the corner, just studio people and Sidney with his pearly white teeth and notebook full of details.

"Like almost every nightmare I've ever had, completely normal at first."

 **2014**

Taylor has decided that living in a big house isn't worth being held hostage in an old farmhouse with the smell of rot hanging in the air like bad perfume. A woman old enough to be her nana is bent over with a slice of jerky that's definitely not from a deer, the smell making bile rise in her throat.

"Try to make me eat that and I'll let my snake take a chunk out of your hand," Taylor threatens, little hands fisted in her daddy's shirt. "We'll see how _you_ like it." Mama Polk lets out a mirthless laugh, rattling in her chest like a cup full of bones.

"You keep making hollow threats, girly, and one day someone's gonna get ya." She pops the jerky in her mouth and promptly spits it back out, tossing the cookie sheet of meat to the dirt floor with a shout. "I spent hours workin' on that jerky and it ain't sweet! That man is bad meat." She points an accusatory finger at Elias, the scholar laid up on a table with an arm and leg missing.

 _We're all tainted meat_. Taylor feels a giggle bubbling up in her chest, her clenched teeth the only thing holding it back. _Bob was right, we're tainted_.

"Bad meat," echoes one of the hillbillies, round and holding a hammer. "Bad meat!"

"That's right," Mama Polk agrees. "No reason to keep that one alive if he's rancid." Taylor snaps her head back around to bury it in her daddy's chest, hands covering her ears to muffle the sickening _squish-thud-crack_ of Elias's skull being crushed under the hammer. "None of this would've happened if you city folk hadn't bought that house. The Butcher likes it empty and we try to keep it that way so no one will disturb our crop."

"Crop," Matt asks, hoarse. "What do you mean, crop?"

"The cannabis. We got fields all over these woods."

"Why are you telling us this? You can have the fucking house, just let us go."

"Why not let you in on some of the family secrets when we know you ain't gonna go run around tellin' folks," Ishmael asks, sitting in a kitchen chair six feet away with a shotgun balanced in his grip. "You all's just steak to us. Funny thing is, we might've let y'all walk on outta here if you hadn't gotten our babies taken away."

"We made a deal with the Butcher long time ago," Mama says. "She gets her sacrifice and we get our protection."

"So let's get in the goddamn truck." Ishmael jerks his shotgun at the front door and there's only a moment of hesitation before the others get up. Taylor clings to her daddy as they move back out into the chilled air, leaves crunching under their feet. "Everyone in the back." Nico grumbles as he's shoved forward, letting Taylor and Flora climb into the back of the pickup before helping Shelby in after them.

"This is illegal," Taylor points out. "I'm supposed to be in a booster seat, not bumping around out here."

"You'll be fine, kid. Stop your grumblin'." She scowls, the metal of the truck bed cold through her tights. They're fleece-lined and bright orange, but they don't hold up against the cold. The big man with the hammer sits in the back with them, taking the shotgun from Ishmael while the skinny man with a cleft lip climbs into the cab to drive them.

She doesn't talk much as the truck rumbles to life and starts off at a snail's pace down the dirt road, dips and rocks making them bounce harshly in their spots. Taylor just keeps her eyes on the black void of the barrel, where a blast of gunpowder could kill them all at any time. One wrong jolt, one accidental twitch of the finger, and _bang!_ No more family.

One particularly vicious bounce has the barrel going up and the hillbilly yelling at his brother in the front seat. Matt and Nico take that as their cue to move, shoving the girls behind them as they lurch forward. Matt grabs the shotgun and Nico dives for the man's waist, working together to get the gun away from him.

Those threads around Taylor's heart pull taunt again, bruising pain spreading over her breastbone until there's a single blast that has the truck swerving dangerously and blood painting the back window of the cab. The hillbilly growls and throws the men off of him in time for Shelby to kick out, knocking him out of the bed.

"Come on," Matt hisses, grabbing Flora and hauling her out of the truck. "Come on, we have to go." Taylor hops over the side, feet dangling over the edge until Nico helps her down. "We gotta go! Come on!"

The moonlight doesn't help much in the woods, skeletal branches twining and twisting overhead to make a shroud. Too dark, too cold. But they keep going and eventually stop after an hour, dropping down to hide behind a felled tree. Around her neck, cold and clammy, Eve's tongue flicks out to taste the air.

 _Make him turn off his phone_. Taylor's gaze switches between Matt and Nico for a moment, fingernails digging into the dirt as panic makes her tense. _Make_ _ **Matt**_ _turn off his stupid phone, Taylor. They're coming_.

"Your phone," Taylor whispers, poking Mattie's arm. "Cousin says turn it off." Matt doesn't even falter, powering off the cell phone and stuffing it back into his pocket. Seconds later, one of the hillbillies stalks past them, shirt stained red and shotgun still in his hands. It's the one from the truck, the one Shelby had kicked with everything she had.

They wait another ten minutes after he passes before they begin to move, careful to keep their steps light and trying not to run into tree branches as they go. It's dark out and everything seems topsy-turvy, so it's no real surprise when they step out onto the path that leads right up to the front door.

"Oh God," Shelby breathes out, fingers tight where they dig into Flora's shoulder. "We just went in a huge circle."

"Shh, they haven't seen us yet," Matt cautions, holding out an arm to keep everyone from moving forward. "Scoot back. We'll stay in the woods until morning."

"It's too cold for us out here," Nico argues, shaking his head. "We'll have better luck walking alongside the road. If nothing else, it'll keep our blood circulating until we can find a car willing to pick us up."

"I guess that's better than nothing." They ease back into he woods, the kids herded between Matt and Shelby while Nico makes up the rear. They just have to make it to town and they'll be safe, just a few miles. But Taylor's bare feet are already sore and bleeding in places and the cold wind makes her eyes sting with tears.

"Wait, Shelby's car."

"What about it?"

"The taillights are on." Taylor glances back over her shoulder, the two spots of red out of place amongst the firelight. The silver paint's been tarnished by smoke damage, but the settlers must not have set it on fire like they did the other two. But why the heck are the taillights on?

The answer comes a moment later when the car reverses too fast for the mob to get out of the way, the Butcher flying over the top of the car and a few others going down underneath it. It comes to a stop with a spray of dirt, the driver's side window rolling down to reveal Lee with her teeth bared in a snarl.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," she yells, white-knuckling the steering wheel. Taylor doesn't need to be told twice, she practically dives inside once the door is opened, ending up in her daddy's lap with Shelby and Flora beside them and Mattie in the front seat. "What the hell were you thinking, hiding in those woods?"

"Edward led us there," Matt defends.

" _Edward led us there_ ," she repeats in falsetto. If Taylor wasn't so tired, she'd probably laugh. "Are you kidding me? We are not the dumb white people in horror movies, Matt! In fact, there's only one actual white person in this car! Even she should know better than to follow a ghost into the woods!"

"It was kind of a stressful time, Lee! We had a mob outside and some Grudge looking motherfucker hanging out like Spider-Man above the stairs! I was basically just hoping to get out of the house without being turned into a human Happy Meal!"

"We almost were," Taylor adds smartly. "Those crazy people would'a turned us into jerky if the Butcher didn't want us so badly." Matt sends her a betrayed look when Lee growls low in her throat, giving her brother a pointed glare. It really drives home the fact that Lee is the older sibling since it's the same glare Monica used to give Shelby after she let Taylor try wine for the first time.

"Mama, I'm hungry," Flora complains.

"Yeah, can we have pizza?"


	16. R is for Rory

**2016**

It's the doorbell ringing that makes Taylor look up from her book, marking her place with her finger. When there's not the sound of rushing footsteps from the back of the house, she heaves a sigh and gets off the couch. She peeks through the small, rectangular window next to the door and rolls her eyes when she spots Sidney.

"What do you want," she demands the second the door is open. There's sweat on the man's brow, sweltering Louisiana heat not agreeing with him. He looks awful and there's a scarf hanging out of his back pants pocket. A freaking scarf. In Fort Polk, Louisiana. Where it's miserably humid all year long.

"Just thought you and your dad might like to make some more money."

"My dad's a successful lawyer and I'm his only child, we're already loaded, dude." She goes to shut the door, but he wedges his foot next to the doorjamb, muscling his way inside with a small crew following after him. "Or just barge inside, Sidney. It's not like I have the police chief's number memorized or anything."

"Jesus, how can you stand that humidity? I guess it must be a genetic thing since you're half Cuban."

"I'd ask if being racist is genetically a white thing, but we already know the answer to that." She kicks the door shut and goes back to the living room, purposefully taking a long drink of her lemonade when she notices Sidney eyeing it. "Dad! Sidney's here with his cronies!"

"Seriously? You weren't this rude last year."

"Yeah, I grew out of my shyness. Dad!" Nico comes down the hall at a languid pace, texting away and holding up a finger when Sidney tries to speak. "He's in the middle of some custody arrangement or another. You gotta wait your turn." Taylor sits back on the couch and flips her book open, ice cubes clinking in her glass from the movement.

"What do you want, Sid," Nico asks, pocketing his phone.

"I'm doing another show—"

"No freaking way. The last one was bad enough, but I'm not putting my daughter through that again."

"Not even if it means her college fund gets a little boost? Think of it, she won't even need a full scholarship at this rate, she can basically afford the Ivy Leagues if she wants to. Do this for her." He rests a hand on Taylor's head, jerking it away when she tries to bite it. "Or, more likely, you'll have the money to bribe whatever judge tries to put her ass in juvie."

"Taylor, we've discussed this. You can't go around biting people."

"He touched me without asking first," she grumbles.

"She's got a point." A tic starts up in Sidney's jaw and he has to bite back a scathing remark, Diana stepping up to the plate.

"Sidney's right in his own way," she starts, holding up her iPad for Nico to see. "You'll get a ten percent increase in pay if you do this show. Whatever Taylor wants, she can get with this kind of money."

"What would we have to do?"

"You'd have to go back and spend three days in that house." Taylor's shoulders go stiff as she thinks back to the living hell her life had been two years ago, the sudden pain of a bone breaking and the breath-stopping panic of nearly being discovered by the hillbillies.

"No, absolutely not."

"The other three will be there."

"Then they're dumber than I gave them credit for. My daughter and I went through _hell_ when we lived there, Diana. I mean, people are bullying her at school because they think she's a liar! Do you know how awful it feels to see your baby crying and begging not to go to school every morning?"

"Then prove those bullies wrong. Go back, spend those three days in a house full of people, and show all those bullies that you and Taylor were telling the truth."

"I wanna do it," Taylor says, setting her book and glass on the coffee table. Nico spins to look at her, thick brows knitting together over his eyes. The shadows aren't so bad these days, but there's still a fine tremor in his hands. "I wanna shove it in those kids' smug faces that I was telling the truth. Especially since my therapist says I can't go around punching them in the nose."

"Fine," Nico sighs, hands on his hips. "I guess we're going back."

* * *

It's late when they arrive back at the house, the weeds a little overgrown without someone to tend to them and the living room windows completely repaired. Taylor shoulders her backpack and arranges Eve carefully around her wrist before heading for the front door, shoes scuffing over the concrete porch.

"Honey," she mutters as the door creaks open," I'm home."

"The others are gathered in the living room," Priscilla says, frowning where she's leaning against the stairs. "Flora's not here." Taylor turns her back on the spirit and marches into the living room alongside her dad, going straight for her uncle and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I missed you, Mattie."

"Misses you too, Tay." He wraps an arm around her shoulders, holding her for a moment until she pulls back to look up at him. She hasn't seen him in almost a year and he looks tired, like a gust of wind can blow him right over.

"That beard looks awful."

"What do you and Lee have against my beard? I think it looks nice."

"When was the last time you actually looked at it though?" He manages a smile and she grins back, bright enough for the both of them. "Can I come stay with you this summer? I miss LA."

"Course you can." She settles with her back against him, watching as Sidney comes in with a box he sets on the table.

"What's that," she asks, craning her head to look at it.

"A present for each of you," he answers, popping the top. "Cell phones for each of you in exchange for all your old ones. These have all been disabled so that only the camera works." Taylor takes hers and looks it over, frowning when she realizes Sidney wasn't lying. She can't even use the Internet.

"What's the point of giving us phones when we can't even play Candy Crush on them?"

"So you can document stuff that happens around the house. We'll use that footage in the actual show so the audience can get a sense of how you guys are feeling." She turns on the video function and holds the phone up, Sidney's smiling face filling the frame.

"Hey, audience, this is Sidney confiscating phones. Isn't that dumb?"

"That's not what I meant." Taylor dances away from him, keeping the phone up even when he gives up the chase. "I meant behind the scenes type stuff or activity the other cameras might not pick up."

"Ghosts don't like technology." She lowers the phone and stuffs it in the pouch of her hoodie.

"Fine, whatever. Just one last thing before I leave, room assignments; Lee and Monet will be in Lee's old room upstairs, Nico and Taylor will be in her old room, and Matt and Shelby will be together."

"No," Matt protests, taking a step forward. "I'll sleep in the basement. It'll be quieter down there."

"Whatever you want, the whole house is rigged with cameras." Taylor heads up the stairs with no more prompting, the flight tiring her out and making her glad that she left her old bed here. Her room is exactly how she left it in the mad dash to the motel two years ago, furniture dusted for the show and her old, worn teddy set against her dad's pillow.

"Well, Eve, I guess this is gonna be home for three days. Let's just hope it's not as crappy as last time." She tosses her bag down next to her dresser and kicks off her shoes before climbing into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Even with a hoodie and sweats on, she's still cold.

Eve unravels and slithers deeper under the covers, nestling next to her bare ankle. It's the snake's favorite spot to sleep now, always touching. With the scales cool against her ankle and the shades drawn closed to keep out the moonlight, Taylor falls into a deep sleep.

It's hours later when something wakes her up, pulling her out of a nightmare she's had off and on since she was four years old, showcasing sharp angles and toppled buildings. Edward is standing near her bed, face cast in the red light of the moon outside, bones too visible after what she's just heard. It's whispered words, right up against her ear without the warmth of breath.

 _R is for Rory_.


	17. Discordant Melodies

It's the next morning when Taylor sees Rory's ghost sulking in the kitchen, tears wet on his cheeks and Audrey's name a weak plea. She thinks he left her for Brad Pitt, but Taylor's not going to be the one to tell her that her husband's dead. She ignores him and grabs some lunch meat out of the refrigerator before going to the living room, plopping down on the couch near Dominic. The actor is tall and broad through the shoulders, sharing no common features with Mattie other than his skin tone. He's funny though and he doesn't mind her watching Harry Potter on repeat.

"Shouldn't you be eating something healthier for breakfast?"

"Shouldn't you stop harassing my aunt for ratings?"

"Give me some of that." He takes a slice of ham from her, stuffing his mouth so he doesn't have to answer any questions. Taylor lets him for now but watching people squirm has become something of a pastime for her. What's better than having total control over someone? Nothing.

Well, it's second to gummy worms.

Nico comes into the room a few minutes later, stealing some of the lunch meat before heading outside. It's not really surprising, he's used to having a full caseload, something to keep his brain busy, and there's none of that out here in the boonies. Taylor's just happy they have Netflix out here.

She and Dominic are halfway through Prisoner of Azkaban when the screaming starts, Taylor dashing up the stairs before her mind catches up with her. Screaming in general is usually a bad thing, but the blood-curdling scream of her aunt in _this place_ means attempted murder.

"Aunt Shel!" Dominic sprints past her and into the bedroom, an accented woman beginning to yell soon afterwards. What greets Taylor is like a punch to the gut, her aunt covered in gushing blood and an older woman wielding a cleaver. "Aunt Shel…." She feels sick, the room seeming to spin around her as her knees give out.

"Where the fuck did she go? Taylor!" Her head snaps up, one hand covering her mouth and teeth clenched shut to keep her breakfast down. "Where'd Agnes go? Did you see her?" She shakes her head, looking from where Shelby is sobbing on the floor to the large shards of glass that are scattered around like ice.

"I don't- I don't know. The _Butcher_ —"

"That wasn't the Butcher. Go downstairs and tell someone we need some help up here."

"Help! Mattie! Dad!" Audrey's the one that comes running, shooing Taylor out of the room when she sees what's happened. That's fine with her, she'd much rather freak out in the hallway where it's mercifully blood-free.

"What's going on," Matt asks, bounding up the stairs two at a time.

"Someone stabbed Shel. They got her really bad, Mattie." He peeks inside and then he's yelling down the hall for someone to call an ambulance. "What're we gonna do? We're gonna die. They're gonna kill us. We're gonna—" Matt shakes her once, hard enough for her teeth to snap together.

"We're gonna be just fine, baby. Why don't you head downstairs and visit with Edward while I help Shelby? I'm sure he's missed being annoyed even if he won't admit it." She nods, sniffling, and latches onto the idea like it's a lifebuoy and she's drowning. Edward's waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, ready to guide her away from panicking voices and down into the basement.

"She's really hurt."

"I know," Edward says, settling her down on the cot Matt's claimed. "But it wasn't the dead that hurt her. It seems the Chens are still wary after that stunt you pulled the last time you were here."

"I don't think I can do that again. God, I feel so weak and shaky."

"Yes, that's because you were having a panic attack. I used to get them all the time, it's nothing to worry about. My artwork used to calm me down." A crease appears between his brows and then he's off like a shot, digging through old boxes of junk until he pulls out a familiar book of poetry. "Here, read this to me."

She flips through the book until she finds one of her favorites, the last passage reminding her of this place. It used to be a palace, still is in a way, but it's rotting away and filling with the dead.

"And travelers, now, within that valley, through the red-litten windows see vast forms that move fantastically to a discordant melody," she reads. "While, like a ghastly rapid river, through the pale door a hideous throng rush out forever, and laugh—but smile no more."

"I love that one. The best by far, though, is Eldorado."

"Gaily bedight, a gallant knight, in sunshine and in shadow, had journeyed long, singing a song, in search of Eldorado."

"Alright, I get it. You've had this book nearly memorized since you were six. There's no need to gloat." She beams up at him, the tremors easing little by little until she can breathe again, chest no longer so tight. "Recite that one for me. It's been so long since I've heard another's voice and I have a feeling that you'll no longer butcher it."

"Gaily bedight, a gallant knight, in sunshine and in shadow, had journeyed long, singing a song, in search of Eldorado. But he grew old—this knight so bold—and o'er his heart a shadow—fell as he found no spot of ground that looked like Eldorado. And, as his strength failed him at length, he met a pilgrim shadow—'Shadow,' said he, 'Where can it be—this land of Eldorado?'"

"'Over the Mountains of the Moon, down the Valley of the Shadow, Ride, boldly ride,' the shade replied,—'If you seek for Eldorado!'"

They trade the book back and forth for the better part of an hour, each of them taking turns on reciting and giggling when one of them trips up. Her guardian spirit was made for dramatic readings like this, making grand gestures with his hands and acting out parts. It keeps Taylor wholly distracted until Nico pokes his head through the doorway.

"Princess, you down there?"

"Yeah," she calls up to him, standing up and walking into the light.

"We're coming down to use the tunnels, so tell Edward not to freak out." She turns to look at her friend, biting back a worried frown at the way he flickers in and out of view. She has a word for that expression now, he's anxious.

"I guarantee nothing." Nico scowls but gestures for some of the others to come down and following after them. "What are you guys doing?"

"Going to find Sidney and drag his ass back here," Monet grouses, helping Nico shoulder aside the old frame in front of the tunnel door. Audrey and Lee are the ones to pry it open before heading inside.

"Is Aunt Shel okay?"

"She will be. We're gonna get her some help."

"Just go upstairs and stay where Matt can see you," Nico says. "I'll be gone and hour, two at the most." She's ready to argue, but his expression translates into _do what I said or no Cutthroat Kitchen for a month_ and she doesn't need that kind of stress in her life. She trudges up the stairs and into the dining room, Dominic leaning against the table and staring into a glass of booze.

"I thought you weren't supposed to drink that stuff until five."

"Shit happens," he remarks, knocking it back and setting the glass on the table. "You okay?"

"Yeah, Edward helped me."

"Right, the dead guy." She tilts her head to the side, trying to get a read on him. It used to be easy for her, grasping at peoples' thoughts and plucking them like flowers to see what was going on in their heads. Now Taylor's lucky to pick up their moods. It's fading, just like everything else, and all she can get is a vague idea.

"Are you guys ever gonna get out of the Nile?"

" _Denial_ , kid. And I'm not denying anything except for the fact that you were brainwashed into thinking what your family told you to."

"Try and say that when the Butcher kicks you down the stairs because you had the nerve to stand up to her." She glances down at her left arm, running her fingers over her wrist where Eve usually sits. It's weird not to have the snake there when she's out of school. "How's Aunt Shelby?"

"She'll be fine once we get an ambulance out here. Audrey was able to slow the bleeding with a tourniquet." Taylor's attention turns to the window, the sun sinking lower and lower into the sky. "Tell me about Edward."

"What?"

"He's the dude that built this place, right? I think I need to know about him."

"I know you're trying to distract me."

"I'll give you ten bucks if you start talking and stay out from under Matt's feet."

"Done." She sits at the table and begins to ramble, spouting out all the information she can remember. She tells him about Edward's first two nights in the house, about the lost colony that should never have been here, and about the dead psychic that likes to hang out in the downstairs bathroom. She tells him everything, and by the time she's run out of words the quarter moon is high in the sky and her dad hasn't come back.

* * *

Taylor's not entirely sure when it happened, but she fell asleep at some point and a nightmare smeared with red and grey woke her up screaming. "Mattie," she shrieks, chest heaving as she tries to scramble out of her bed. "Mattie, no! Uncle Matt!" Edward's next to her in an instant, cold hands pushing on her shoulders until she's stopped flailing.

"There's nothing you can do to help your uncle," he says, a touch of sadness in his voice. "It's already done."

"But…. But I have to—"

"What you have to do is survive. The mob will be here within the hour and there's still twenty-four hours to go before they retreat into the woods for the next year." She sucks in a deep breath and digs her fingernails into her scalp, the pain helping her to focus. "I will watch over your uncle now, as much as I hate the thought, and I'll not let him be forced into the Butcher's service."

"He already belongs to the witch of the wood. It's too late."

"Scáthac is powerful, but I'm stubborn. There's a reason I've been able to hold out for so long. And to think my family's priest thought such a thing would never help me."

There are footsteps on the stairs and then going into the room across the way, Shelby's hitching sobs making Taylor's chest sting all the more. The strings around her heart, the ones she thought were just imaginary last year, have all been pulled taunt, one of them hanging in tatters instead of whole.

She pushes her hair off her face and slides off the bed, grabbing Eve as she goes. The adder isn't too pleased with the arrangement, but calms when she's settled over Taylor's neck. The pair cross the landing to the bedroom, finding Dominic standing in the doorway of the connected bathroom.

"Hey, kiddo," he says, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "What's up? Were you having a nightmare?"

"No."

"You were screaming."

"I screamed because Shelby killed my uncle with a crowbar." She moves over to the bed and curls up in the center of it, glaring ahead of her at the wall. The sick writhing in her belly is slowly being clouded over by anger, a cold-burning rage that makes her want to hurt someone.

"How did you—?"

"Because I was shown it by my cousin. _He_ doesn't hide anything from me." A sudden flare of light outside draws Dominic to the window, a pinched expression making him look ugly for the first time since he showed up. "What?"

"Agnes is outside with a fucking torch and gas cans." Taylor goes to stand next to him and Shelby joins them after a moment, watching as Agnes screams up at the house in Gaelic. She looks nothing like the real Butcher, Taylor realizes that now, but it's the Blood Moon and there's a chance that Thomasin will make her grand entrance soon. "Why is she filming herself?"

"Because she's nuts."

"Now, who the fuck are those people?" He points at the line of colonist making their way towards the house, torches bright in their hands as they form a semi-circle around Agnes. "Are they extras? Is this some stunt that Sidney's pulling to scare us?"

"Nope."

"How the fuck are we gonna stop them from getting inside?"

"We're not," Shelby deadpans. Below them, the crowd parts to reveal the real horror that has Agnes kneeling in reverence. The Butcher stands tall over the old woman's hunched form and doesn't even hesitate to drive her cleaver down into Agnes's head, the handle coming to a jarring stop halfway through her skull.

"Jesus fuck! What the fuck was that?" He drops to the floor, cell phone leveled towards Shelby when she slides down to join him.

"You know what that was. You've already filmed this scene."

"That was fake! I didn't sign on for real murders!"

"They're starting the bon fire," Taylor informs them, watching as the colonists space out in front of the house. They're like toy soldiers, carefully arranged by a child's hand to block anyone from leaving. Taylor can leave, though, she can go through the tunnel and walk the six miles back to town.

"W-what about that tunnel? The one under the house that the others left through?"

"Fine, but you'd better not get on Edward's bad side. He's cranky tonight."

 **The poems Taylor reads are The Haunted Palace and Eldorado by Edgar Allan Poe.**


	18. Too Late

There's no rush of darkness that washes over her like ice water, no deep voice that doesn't belong to her, but the Chens remember. All it takes is her stepping out in front of the grownups to have them freezing in place for an instant, analyzing and listening to the threatening hiss from Eve. They scatter back into the tunnel like the Devil is nipping at their heels and Dominic is looking down at Taylor like she's Rosie Cotton dancing with ribbons in her hair.

"What? I'm freakin' awesome."

"Yeah, you are." He smacks a hand down on her shoulder, giving it a slight shake. "Let's get the hell out of here and find the others." They're almost twenty feet inside when they realize Shelby isn't following, standing just outside the tunnel with a determined set to her jaw. Taylor knows the expression, but it used to mean her aunt's going to chug three cans of Red Bull in order to finish a term paper. "Shel, what are you doin'? Come on."

"No," she says, shaking her head. "Someone needs to stay behind and keep those assholes distracted. Get Taylor out of here." Taylor goes to lunge for her aunt in the same instant the older woman slams the door shut, Dominic catching the eight year old around her waist and tugging her further down the tunnel.

"No," she screams, thrashing against Dominic's hold. "No, I need her! I need my Shel!" Dominic doesn't say anything, just settles her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and keeps walking. "Let me down! I have to go—" She makes a gut-punched sound as white hot pain lances through her chest, knocking the air right out of her.

"Taylor? Are you okay?" She can't answer, can't do anything except heave her chest and try to _breathe. Oh God, I can't breathe. I'm gonna die_. She doesn't even register the fact that Dominic's laid her on the damp earth until he's rubbing a hand over her chest, pressing and massaging until the pain fades to a dull throb. "What the fuck was that?"

"Shelby…." Taylor's voice is hoarse, her throat sore as she sucks in deep breaths. She can't finish the sentence, can't force it out into the open and make it real, but Dominic seems to understand. Shelby's dead. She's lying in a puddle of blood next to Matt and something inside of Taylor _seethes_. "I need my daddy. I gotta see him."

"Alright, I'm gonna take you to him. Come on, girl." He helps her up, fisting a hand in the back of her shirt to keep her steady. It's comforting, she's always been tactile.

The next twenty minutes seem to stretch on for an eternity, but then they're out in the fresh air and Cricket's waiting for them dead ahead. He looks almost decadent in his black suit, but he's frowning like they've just stomped all over his grave.

"What the hell are you thinking, coming out in these woods," he demands, banging his cane against the dirt. "It's dangerous out here!"

"Only if you draw attention our way," Dominic rasps. "How about you shut the hell up and help us find her daddy." Cricket rakes his eyes up and down Dominic's body and Taylor shudders in disgust, affection like that still awful in her mind.

"They're half a mile along the path, heading back this way. I give 'em fifteen minutes if they hustle." He stares over his shoulder and there's a dry tilt to his lips that sets Taylor on edge. "Course, I doubt they'll be hurrying much considering Lee's got a chunk carved out of her thigh."

"They've been with the Polks," Taylor realizes. "Man, talk about traumatizing. Those people tried to make me eat Elias the last time I saw them." Cricket snorts, eyeing Dominic again. It's beginning to get annoying and she might say something when she doesn't feel like someone's just punched her in the breastbone. There's a rustle and then Lee, Audrey, and Nico come bursting out of the trees at a near sprint, Lee hauled up against Nico's side. "Daddy!" She jumps forward, wrapping her arms tight around his waist with her face in his belly.

"Oh, my baby," he gasps, dropping to his knees to hug her. "I was so worried."

"Aunt Shelby…. An-and Uncle Matt…." She can't force the words out past the lump in her throat. "We can't go back in the house."

"So we'll go in the cellar for the night. Why not? Elias lived in there for God knows how long." He picks her up despite the fact that she's too old for that now, Dominic moving to support Lee and following after them.

Taylor's never actually been in the cellar before, she's seen it on TV and eavesdropped on the stories Matt and Nico passed back and forth, but none of that prepared her for the earthy smell and leftover rot. It's a distinct smell, musty like old mothballs that have been forgotten in a closet all summer.

The wood table has collapsed at some point, a pile of rubble at the back of the cellar. The shelving is still up, though, the nails rusted and poking out of the wood at odd angles bound to give someone tetanus. Overhead, roots grow through the ceiling in intervals, thin and spidery and pale in the dark.

"Anyone got a light?"

"Yeah," Nico answers. There's a rustle of fabric and then a match is struck to life, Nico pressing the head of it against the dry wick of an old oil lamp. The globe of it is cracked along the edge, but it gives off enough light without being obvious and the oil has a sweet smell that covers the less pleasant ones.

Lee collapses against one of the walls, sliding to the floor with a pained moan and clutching at her bloody thigh. Someone's tied a tourniquet just above it, but the jeans have been cut off one leg and the pink of muscle is visible among the mess of blood and loose skin.

"Alright, so we'll stay down here for the night and then we'll hike back to town."

"No, we'll go to that farm," Lee says, breathing hard. "It's closer than town and they have a truck. Nico can hotwire it."

"That was one time and you promised not to bring it up again."

"I also promised not to teach your daughter how to pick a lock." He sends Taylor a sharp look and she smartly glances away, more interested in her bare toes and the bright pink polish that gleams in the flickering light. "We're going to the farm and we'll grab Monet while we're there."

"You're staying here with Taylor when we go."

"Like hell I am!"

"You're not leaving me alone again," Taylor argues, stamping her foot. "Every time you do, something bad happens!" Nico heaves a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. It's already messy and there are brown leaves caught in it, making him look like Mowgli or even Tarzan. "I'm going," she says, softer now. "I can't be left here again, Daddy. I just can't." Tears sting her eyes as they gather, blurring her daddy's face. "You can't leave. Please don't do that.

"Alright, Princess," he soothes, kneeling down and cupping one of her cheeks. "It's alright, I'm not leaving you. Not ever again."

* * *

" _You can't change the future, Princess. You just have to keep a good head on your shoulders because he's going to need our support."_

Taylor jolts upright with a strangled sound, hands going to her hair and pulling almost viciously until someone is untangling them. The sentence from her nightmare hangs in the air like a physical presence, ready to fall on her head like a ton of bricks. She doesn't understand what the woman in her dream was talking about, couldn't untangle all those images that go blurry around the edges when she wakes up.

"Were you having a nightmare," Audrey asks, keeping a loose grasp on Taylor's wrists. Taylor nods, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I've found talking about them can help in the long run. Just getting them out in the open where they can't hurt you."

"They can hurt me. This one is gonna come true." And that scares the bejeezus out of her, the idea of that awful hellscape being real; the hazy fog that chokes the life out of people, the blue-black wings of crows as they fly past a dark red sun that hangs low in the sky. It makes her wonder if she really wants to survive the Blood Moon, what the point is in continuing to live when it's all just going to end in ruin.

"It always feels like that at first."

"No, this is different. It's the same dream since I was four years old and nobody understands it. My therapist just thinks I'm suppressing things but she's wrong. All of you are wrong." Her hands jerk as she tries to bury them in her hair again, but Audrey holds on tight. There could be bruises later, bracelets of red and blue and yellow, but she doesn't care. A few bruises are nothing compared to what might happen if they don't make it out before the moon rises.

"Listen to me, dreams cannot hurt you. You are a strong young woman and you will survive everything. I watched an actress playing you for six months and you're a brave little girl." Taylor shakes her head, but she relaxes her arms and Audrey lets go after a moment longer. "You are safe and we are going to get out of here."

"What time is it," Nico asks, rubbing his hand over his face. There's stubble along his jaw from three days of not shaving and there's some gray sprinkled through it.

"Almost noon. It seems we all slept in." He groans and sits up, some of his hair hanging over his forehead. He's grown it out in the last year, now it curls around his ears and allows him some anonymity when he does his grocery shopping. "Do you think we should wake the others?"

"Yeah, best to get a move on." He and Audrey move to the other two sleeping in a huddle nearby, Dominic coming awake with a jerk until he realizes he's relatively safe. "How you feeling, Lee?"

"Like someone turned part of my leg into jerky and pickled my ear," she grumbles. "Audrey, do you have anything for the pain?"

"Yeah, I've got some Oxy in my bag," she says. "Dom, you wanna be my backup?" He nods and stands up, letting her go up the ladder first before following her. Taylor leans back against the wall, staring down at her hands in her lap. When the actors come back ten minutes later, they each have a bag thrown over their shoulders. "We brought some clothes for everyone."

"That's great," Nico says, genuinely meaning it. "Thank you." Nico and Dom take a change of clothes back outside while the girls get dressed in the dim light from the oil lamp. Taylor changes out of her dirty nightgown and into a pair of jeans and a black top with _#Selfie_ printed on it in bold green letters. She pulls on her wellies and straightens her ponytail before settling on the ground again, Eve draped around her neck.

"Is everyone ready?"

"As ready as I can be," Lee tells her. There are some grunted curses as Audrey helps Lee to stand up, but they make it to the ladder and the men help her up into the open. Taylor's the last one out of the cellar, her daddy's ruined coat settled around her shoulders and giving her some protection from the cold. "Let's get this over with."

The walk to the farmhouse took them three hours last time, Taylor remembers every single step, but it takes almost twice that long this time around since Lee can only do a fast hobble. The sun is low in the sky when they make it to the property line, the group crouching behind some half-dead bushes.

"There's the truck," Nico says, pointing. It's the same one from two years ago, the back window covered with a plastic sheet. Someone died in there, someone was _murdered_. "Dom, go with Audrey and Lee to find Monet. I'll see if I can't hotwire the damn truck."

"What about me," Taylor asks as the others hurry away from them.

"You're gonna be my lookout." He takes her hand and they make a break for the rusted old pickup, staying low in case one of the hillbillies comes out. "Crawl under the truck and tell me if you see one of those hillbillies." She nods and drops to her belly, army crawling her way beneath the truck and barely fitting. It sits low to the ground and stinks of gasoline, but hopefully it won't take her daddy long to get it started.

She's so busy scanning the buildings that she doesn't notice anything going on behind her until someone's got her ankle and is yanking her out from under the truck, the gravel rough against her cheek and palms. She turns onto her back and kicks as hard as she can, the round hillbilly jerking his hand back with a grunt of pain. Next to her, Nico is clutching at his side and trying to stay upright as blood absorbs into the gray cotton of his shirt.

"Hey, asshole," Lee shouts, holding up a small camcorder. "Smile for the camera!" The hillbilly does smile, baring broken teeth and gaps, and then he pushes Nico out of his way and climbs into the cab.

"You killed Mama," he calls out the window. "Now they're gonna kill y'all!" He pulls out in a shower of gravel that has Taylor flinching away, arms up to cover her face.

"Shit, Nico!" Taylor glances at her daddy again, not liking how gray his face is or the way he can't seem to focus on anything for long. He keeps pressure on the wound, though, and the knife is still there. Taylor read somewhere that's a good thing. "Audrey, we got company!" Torches can be seen through the gaps in the trees, the Blood Moon full in the sky like a beacon.

"Lee, what do I do," she asks, the threads around her heart too tight. It's constricting, like someone's squeezing and not letting go. "How do I make him better?"

"You don't. It's too late for your daddy." She grabs at Taylor's arm, but the girl breaks out of her hold and crouches over her daddy. "We have to go!"

"Leave me alone!" The rush of darkness hits her like a train, driving Lee back a good five feet. Her skin is cold and tingling as the power rushes through her, heartbeat a loud drumming in her ears that drowns out all other noise. She watches as Lee turns tail and runs into the forest, the colonists following after her and completely missing the pair on the ground.

The power doesn't rush out of her all at once this time, it clings like a second skin, leaving her clammy and shaking afterwards. She's breathing hard as she lays over her daddy, his stubble scratching her cheek and his breath coming out as white vapor. She vaguely recalls Audrey, Dominic, and Monet running past them at some point, seeing the blood and assuming the worst without stopping to mourn.

Let them go. Let them run away and _die_ , but Taylor won't.

She stays crouched in the open for hours, not noticing the time passing by until faint trickles of daylight began to warm her face. She sits up, eyes red and swollen and those threads around her heart finally, _finally_ , calm again. They're gonna make it. The Blood Moon is sinking.

"Look, Daddy! It's almost daytime." He manages a weak smile in response, his hand loosely gripping hers where it's rested over his chest. "We're gonna be okay." She brushes the hair off his face, smoothing it down into something more respectable.

"Vile…." She looks over her shoulder, brows creasing as Lee stumbles towards her. "Vile…."

"Lee, are you okay?" The older woman doesn't say anything, stare blank as she shambles past the weed-choked driveway. The dappled sunlight glints off something lower down and Taylor's eyes widen when she sees the bloody cleaver in Lee's hand, fingers tight around it and slick with mess. "What are you doing?"

"Have to cleanse the land."

"Lee?" She stops in front of them, swaying back and forth and mumbling to herself before flicking her gaze down to them. She looks totally out of her mind, eyes glazed over and lips chapped from a night in the woods. She glances at the cleaver, raising it up so that the viscera catches the watery sunlight before bringing it down in one hard motion that has warm blood splattering across Taylor's face.

And Taylor _screams_.


	19. Here There be Monsters

Taylor rarely remembers her dreams, good or bad, but there's one that never quite goes away. She'll be sitting at the dinner table and catch the flash of gold from her aunt's hair and think of the gold in her dream, dulled by gray smoke and watery sunlight; her daddy will frown and she'll remember the turned-down corners of full lips and a hissed warning of things to come.

The dream changes from time to time, just small things that seem so large in hindsight when she wakes up screaming, sweat making her hair stick to her face. She doesn't have the words to describe it until she's much older and it's much too late, but the feeling of dread in her belly makes her feel sick.

It always starts the same, with a voice calling out her name and thick cloud-cover casting everything in shades of muted grays and sickly yellows. It's hard to breathe through it all, even harder to find her way around without tripping over debris. Everything's destroyed in the dream, buildings toppled into piles of stones, streets broken and caved-in in places.

Taylor picks her way past it carefully, afraid of what will happen if she gets cut by an exposed piece of steel.

 _Taylor_ , the voice yells, delighted and anxious in the same breath. She follows it through the mist, bare feet slapping against the asphalt. _Tay, come look!_ She wants to shout that she's coming, but her voice is stuck in her throat like a wad of bubblegum.

She makes it to a side street that she knows turns to dirt halfway down it, a path to the beach she and her daddy used to collect seashells at. That's when the woman appears, blonde-haired and sharp angles in the dappled light. There's ash smeared across her cheek and she doesn't even seem to realize it as she comes to a stop and looks over her shoulder.

"Careful," the blonde girl cautions. "Here there be monsters."

And the blonde girl laughs, a sound like bells as she throws her head back. Taylor wants to ask what she means, to beg for any information about how to stop this from happening. The girl sobers, reaching out a hand as though to cup Taylor's cheek but faltering halfway through. Her nails are pink.

"You can't change the future, Princess. You just have to keep a good head on your shoulders because he's going to need our support." Taylor's head tilts to the right and the confusion she feels must be evident on her face because those sharp angles turn soft. "Trust him and he'll see you through this."

 _Taylor!_ Both of them snap their attention back to the path, and Taylor can make out a faint smudge through the fog. It grows clearer after a time, black shadows morphing into a pinkish-red dinner jacket tightly fitted over a set of broad shoulders. The figure comes to stand next to the girl and his hair is the same color, bright like sunshine in the dismal surroundings.

"Trust him," the girl repeats, resting a hand on the man's arm. Her grip is tight and her nails bite into the fabric of the jacket, but the man doesn't flinch away from it. He just smiles, a strange, dark thing that reminds Taylor of the lions she saw in the zoo. Dangerous.

 _Trust us._

Tabby looks up from her book when she hears a car door slamming shut outside. She figured she was just hearing things at first since nothing interesting has happened all year after that nosey real estate agent got murdered at a hotel. As the sound of Constance's voice drifts in through the opened window, Tabby leaps to her feet and sprints across the room to look out with Tate right behind her.

"Who the fuck is that," Tate asks with furrowed brows. Tabby doesn't answer at first, taking in the little girl that's standing next to Constance's minivan. She isn't very old, maybe eight at the most, and she has pale gold hair that falls straight past her shoulders, and a little button of a nose. She'd probably be cute if not for the massive bruise taking up the right side of her face and the split upper lip.

"Just wait right here for a second," Constance says, patting the kid's shoulder before disappearing into the house next door. The little girl turns to look to the right, gray eyes traveling from the top of the murder house—as people have taken to calling it now—all the way down to the neatly cut hedges surrounding the property. Her gaze comes to linger on the twins, as though she can actually see them instead of just some fluttering curtains.

"Can she see us, Tabby Cat?"

"Of course not," Tabby snaps, but she isn't so sure herself. She's heard of people that can see spirits without them making themselves known, the ones with real talent and no ambition of stardom like a certain Craigslist psychic Constance is fond of. "She looks familiar, though."

"Hey, didn't we have a couple of cousins that lived near here?"

"That's right, another set of siblings." Tabby nods as she remembers the slightly older girls that had tormented them when they were all kids. Monica and Shelby were the daughters of Constance's sister and only ever came for one weekend in the summer, leading to big fights between all of them. Hugo had nearly knocked Monica's head off when she'd slapped at Tate and it's pretty much the only good memory has had of her father. "She must be that kid Constance was going on about last year."

"Yeah, the one that got on TV without having to flash her tits." Tate laughs at that, taking glee in the fact that an eight year old has more acting chops than the woman verging on seventy. "What was her name again? Tyler, Kayla?"

"Taylor Valiente." She narrows her eyes at the kid, head tilted as she takes in the familiar cheekbones that comes from her mother's side of the family and the smooth brown skin that comes from her Cuban father's. Nico or something, Tabby thinks, gave cash as birthday presents until Tabby and Tate had been killed in '94.

Constance comes back out of the house a moment later, Michael in tow with his beautiful hair glinting in the sunlight. Even at five, he's a composed little man that holds himself with pride as he walks with his hand caught in Constance's grip. Tabby's seen how he is around other kids, the way he stares them down until they're either crying or running for the hills. This is different, though, he actually cracks a smile when he spots his cousin.

"Hello," he greets, blue eyes taking in everything. "I'm Michael." Taylor doesn't say anything, finally tearing her eyes away from the window so she can look at the new boy.

"Michael," Constance introduces," this is Taylor. She'll be staying with us from now on."

"Is she an orphan like me?" The older woman pauses, floundering for a second before settling on a resigned sigh and a nod. He takes a step forward and reaches out to grasp Taylor's hand in one of his, the excitement in his eyes foreign. This isn't the cat that ate the canary like Tabby is used to, this is an intense fascination that will either lead to a lifelong friendship or murder. _Hell, it could be both if he brings her over here for a visit_.

"Why don't we go inside and get her settled in?"

"Okay, Constance." The blonde grimaces at his use of her name and she sends a dark look at the house her kids live in before leading the way into her own home. Michael and Taylor don't follow immediately, the kids turning to send one last glance at the window the twins are leaning out of. Michael blows a kiss their way and Taylor does something that sends something like shock jolting Tabby's system, then she's being tugged inside the house by the hold Michael has on her.

Taylor had waved at them.

Later that afternoon, when she's lying in a new bed in a new home, the word that's eluded her for years comes to Taylor. The one that describes the fallen buildings and lack of humanity in her nightmare, the one that's been dancing on the tip of her tongue since she was four years old.

Apocalyptic.


End file.
